The Quiet
by AshlynnCoy
Summary: Legends-Verse/AU. We begin on the night of the opening banquet of the New Republic Constitutional Convention- which also happens to be Han Solo's first foray into Princess Leia's world of State Dinners and Political functionaries. And when things go wrong at the party...well... you're in for a bumpy and emotional ride. I'd tell you more, but... no spoilers here!
1. Chapter 1

THE QUIET

CHAPTER ONE

This damned uniform blouse was too small; that didn't bode well for the jacket. The trousers fit okay; a little snug in the seat, but well enough. He could sit without splitting them. And they had been fitted with piping of both of his hard-earned Corellian bloodstripes. The red and the yellow adornments were a nice touch. But not enough to make this getup worth wearing. Fancy uniforms just weren't his thing.

Han Solo was attending his first official high-level government function and he was to do so in the uniform of a General of the Alliance to Restore the Republic.

That's what they were doing tonight; they were restoring the Republic. With dinner and with dancing, with stuffy uniforms and political hyperbole, they were preparing for the business of governing. Han thought that's what they had done two years ago on Endor and Zhotta 3, but apparently the formation of a provisional council and the establishment of a permanent government were not the same thing.

The Empire had all but dissolved, and recently the fledgling New Republic had moved themselves into the traditional seat of government. Was moving in, that is. Coruscant had fallen to the forces of the New Republic just over a month before, and since then the Provisional Council had met daily in order to prepare for what was happening tonight. Delegations from each of the member worlds represented on the Provisional Council as well as those from every world without known Imperial sympathies had been invited to Coruscant to take part in the formation of the permanent government. A Constitution had been written, and now it had to be ratified. It was time to _become_ the New Republic that they had declared. It was a giant step toward peace in the galaxy. In fewer than six months, the New Republic Senate would open its first session.

Han found it strange that he even cared. In his old life, replacing one regime with another would scarcely have affected him. He might not have even noticed. But in his new life he was going to be greatly affected by it. He had fought with the Alliance in their hope of defeating the Empire and bringing democracy back to the galaxy. He had fought to defend the rights of the New Republic Provisional Council to govern, and to heal the wounds that the Empire had left in its wake. And now those wounds were healing and democracy was returning. And Han Solo was going to be a part of it. He was going to be a part of it starting with his first ever State Dinner.

He would have declined the invitation if it had come from anyone else, but this occasion was to be something more than Han Solo's debut into polite society. This was his first chance to appear at a State occasion with Leia. Even though their mission to Bakura had included in an official dinner of sorts, it wasn't quite what this night was. He'd been her pilot and her bodyguard; he'd been beside her _officially_. Tonight he was going to be there in a different capacity altogether, and he had a mind to be sure everyone knew what that meant by the time the night was over. Members of the Provisional Council had certainly been aware that they were close, but this would be the first time they'd really had their relationship on public display. Tonight they would be in the presence of friends, colleagues, people who had seen them together a hundred times and perhaps had no idea that they were actually _together_. And they would be in the presence of dignitaries, soon-to-be Senators and diplomats from across the galaxy.

Hence the need for the dress uniform.

Han had warned her that he was going to be bad at this; he was as sure of that fact as he was that his collar was too tight. Where had Leia gotten his measurements, anyway? But there was nothing on this planet or any other that would keep him from walking into that ballroom with her on his arm tonight. This was too important a night for them.

It wasn't that they had kept their relationship (love affair?) a secret, exactly; but there had not been any real occasion for them to be together in an official capacity- not like this. How surprised was Mon Mothma going to be, or General Madine, or Admiral Ackbar when they got an eyeful of ex-smuggler and notorious scoundrel Han Solo entering the ballroom with the princess on his arm? He loved the fact that Leia wanted him to be her escort for the evening. He loved that Leia loved him. But he had no love for politics and the underhanded games that went along with it. And he wasn't exactly find of the uniform, either.

The door chime rang. Damn. Who could that be? He wasn't expecting anyone, and furthermore, any interruptions would likely keep him from being on time to meet Leia. Being late to pick her up for their first official appearance together would not likely sit well with her. The last thing he wanted was for this night to be less than perfect. He was going to have a tough enough time following protocol during the fancypants dinner that the idea of doing anything within his control that might make her mad was enough to make him think twice about answering his door.

This was important to her; everything about this night was important to her. How hard had she worked and for how long, to see these things that were beginning to come to fruition? Leia had her heart invested in these proceedings and in the potential of the New Republic. But more than that, Han knew, she had her heart invested in him.

She needed to know that he could love this life. She needed to know that he could stand stuffy dinners and party manners and everything else that that he would have to stand if they were going to make anything of a life together. It was easy to be in love when you were two of a tiny faction; when you were fighting for everything every minute and doing so side by side. But things had begun to quiet, and now Han and Leia faced different challenges. They had fallen in love with and as their most extreme selves, and now they had to learn to live with each other in much less extreme circumstances. They had both said they wanted just that; a life together in peacetime, but they had yet to experience a real test of what that life might be like.

Tonight was going to be that test.

Han stumbled through his little apartment to grumble face to face at whoever was at his door. He hoped it was nothing more than another one of his neighbors trying the wrong apartment. Some of them had only come to Coruscant three days ago with the members of the Provisional Council, and all the doors in the Bachelor Officer's Quarters looked remarkably alike. More than once a neighbor from next door or one floor away had tried Han's door thinking it was his own.

Han would have preferred staying on his ship. He had been on Coruscant since the day after the battle that had won the planet to the New Republic he'd part of the detachment sent to see to it that the old Imperial government buildings were properly pacified before the Provisional Council came down from space. The governing body wanted to assure that they would be issuing invitations to a welcoming planet and a functioning infrastructure.

Coruscant, it turned out, had needed little in the way of pacification, but still the military had spent countless hours sweeping the Imperial Center for bombs, bugs, and booby traps. Han hated the work. It was tiresome and tedious and just a little bit boring, but he knew that he'd been chosen for the assignment for a reason. General Rieekan knew that Han would leave no doubts as to the safety of any place in which Leia would be spending time. Solo was sure the old General had figured that out some time between Han's having rescued Leia from the first Death Star and his having dragged her bodily out of the command center on Hoth.

Chewie had declared no interest in bomb sweeping and had been staying with the _Falcon_ in the hangar bay on Coruscant. More was broken aboard the old freighter than usual, and the Wookiee had made it his personal mission to get it fixed. Han realized early on that staying with Chewie on the ship was not only impractical, but bad for morale. The men under his command weren't fond of his quartering in his old civilian digs. So between that fact and the gentle encouragement of Leia and General Rieekan, he had agreed to taking quarters in town with the rest of the military.

Han pressed the switch plate and watched as the door swished open.

He had to consciously keep his mouth from falling open. It was Leia at the door. And she looked spectacular.

He'd barely seen her since she'd come to Coruscant, and he hadn't seen her at all in the month preceding it. She'd been hustled to a meeting the minute her shuttle had landed in the Imperial Center and they'd had a grand total of less than fifteen minutes in each other's presence since. For the month since the victory at Coruscant, they had only seen each other via the holocomm— and the few stolen moments the past few days had granted them had served only to remind Han of just how much her physical presence could affect him. Where he stood right now, he could barely contain himself.

"Are you going to invite me in?" Leia asked, looking past him into the day room of his cramped quarters. She had caught him by surprise, she could tell; but that had been her plan all along. He hadn't invited her over. In the three days she had been planetside, he hadn't invited her. Perhaps he didn't want her to know where he was living.

It was curious to her that Han had suddenly seemed content with sleeping alone, and she had become more than a little bit concerned that the pressure of being in her life had given him second thoughts. As Han stepped back and allowed her access to his apartment, it occurred to her that it may have been less her life and more his quarters that was to blame for their estrangement. And it wasn't as though she had invited him to her place.

"How'd you find me?" Han asked Leia as the door closed behind her. He hadn't told her where he was billeted, as the place was not much to look at and he would much rather have finally seen her rooms tonight. Honestly, though, he didn't care right now. All he could see in this moment; all he could think about was that she was _here_. Leia was dressed in her gown for the party and Han had never ever seen her look so perfect.

Leia was beautiful when she was face down in the mud in a trench with blaster fire flying over her head. She was beautiful in hand-me-down fatigues with dents in her helmet and boots that were two sizes too big. She was beautiful first thing in the morning with tousled hair and sleepy eyes and creases in her face from her pillow. But that was a private beautiful; one only Han had the privilege of seeing up close.

Tonight she was a kind of beautiful that could be seen from space.

Her dress might have been blue… but it might have been white. It had an off-the-shoulder neckline that came to a deep-v in the front, showing more cleavage than Leia normally displayed in public. The bodice was fitted perfectly and clung to her shape in a manner that made Han's fingers itch to grab hold of her. And yards of the billowy iridescent vine silk cascaded from the dropped waist and pooled under its own weight where it just grazed the floor. She was wearing soft leather gloves that came halfway to her elbows and had crystal buttons at the wrist with the same fiery iridescence as those around her neck and adorning the diadem in her hair.

"You look amazing," he finally managed to say. Han felt a lump in his throat as he looked at her. What had he gotten himself into? He had seen Leia dressed up a precious few times, but he had never seen her looking so much like royalty. He was going to make an idiot of himself; at the party or before, he was going to do something to blow this… he was just sure of it.

"Thank you," Leia said back to him, moving further into the room. She was thrilled at the look on his face. It had been a month since they'd been alone together behind a closed door and it pleased her greatly that he seemed so affected.

"No, I mean it," Han said back to her as he headed across the living room. "You look…" he couldn't think of another word. 'Amazing' had been the only one. Han cleared his throat as he tried to clear his head; he still needed to get dressed. He walked past her, through the still-open door to the bedroom and back to his dresser and mirror, where he again started to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt.

"Are you all right?" Leia asked, following him into the bedroom and sitting on the foot of his unmade bed. Han frowned at himself in the mirror. Her exquisite gown and flawless coif made his meager quarters seem that much more inadequate.

"I was until you walked in, princess," he teased, turning to face her so the mischievous smile on his face would be evident enough to keep her from taking that comment to heart. Han gave up on his button for the time being and crossed to stand in front of her. Han leaned over until his face very close to hers, placing his hands on either side of the mattress where she sat. "But now I'm going to spend the entire night distracted by wondering where to find the zipper in that dress."

"It doesn't have a zipper," she whispered in his ear as she brought one gloved hand to the back of his neck and steered his lips to hers for a slow, deliberate kiss. Wow he had missed those lips. How he could have survived for a whole month without this…? His head was still spinning with the intensity of her kiss when she let go of him and slipped off the bed to stand beside him. Han looked up at her and stood up again himself, shaking his head to clear the cloud she had just created in his brain.

Without a word, Leia stepped slowly toward Han's little dresser. She was pulling her gloves from her fingers as she went, and once she had them both in her hand she daintily draped them over the lip of the open top drawer. Han was torn between being embarrassed at the untidy state of his bedroom and intrigued at Leia's removal of clothing; even if it had been only her gloves. She stood beside the dresser and shifted her feet; it didn't take Han long to figure out that she'd slipped off her shoes beneath her dress.

What was she playing at?

"No zipper, eh princess?" he said to her, slowly moving toward where she stood. Leia shook her head.

"Doesn't need one," she answered him, smiling at Han with mischief in her eyes. Oh, he loved that look. That look meant she was up to something; and any time Leia was up to something, he was likely to benefit. "The liner has some stretch to it," she elaborated, "given the proper encouragement, it'll just slide right off." Han's eyes got wide and he ran his hands through his hair. He'd gotten a haircut for the occasion and figured there was very little he could do to mess it up at this length.

"Did you have to tell me that?" He asked, his voice betraying his exasperation. She had come in here after an entire month of celibacy and gotten him all kinds of hot and bothered and now he was going to be expected to put on this damnable costume and be polite to dignitaries all night without giving in to the temptation to sneak her off somewhere and give that dress its 'proper encouragement'!

Leia was frowning at him. Either he didn't get what she was insinuating, or he didn't like it. Hoping for the former, she took a step toward him. If he didn't understand how come she'd shown up early and unannounced, then she would just have to be more obvious. "Saves you valuable zipper-hunting time," she said back to him. Han took her by the elbows and shook his head.

"You come in here and you give me a tutorial on how to get you out of your ball gown and then you expect me to sit at some big dinner party and behave myself all night," he whined. "It's not fair." He shook his head again and let go of her. "It's mean," he added. It was Leia who shook her head now. She chuckled softly under her breath as she took hold of Han by his shirt tail.

"Check your chrono, flyboy," she teased, undoing the few buttons he'd managed to fasten on his uniform blouse. "We've got lots of time before we need to go." Han's eyes grew wide. Was she serious? She looked so perfect; was she really willing to risk rumples in that dress and tousles in her hair for a tryst before the banquet?

"Don't tease me," he begged. If she wasn't going to follow through, then he would rather she not even flirt; not until later anyway. Three hours of politicking was going to be miserable enough without adding immediate sexual frustration to the mix.

"I wouldn't do that," she assured him. Leia had undone his blouse entirely and had now moved on to removing his cufflinks.

"So you really came here to…" Han's head was spinning. This was a little bit out of character for her.

"To help you get dressed," she finished his sentence for him, her lip curling into a knowing smile.

"But you're going to undress me first?" he asked, finally willing to just play along. Leia nodded.

"Better to start from scratch," she asserted. His cuffs now undone, Leia moved around behind him and slid the crisp linen shirt from his shoulders carefully. She hung it neatly by its collar from the corner of the open dresser drawer before dropping the silver cufflinks onto the dresser's surface. Han grabbed her by her elbow then and pulled her to him with a little more force than he really intended. And then he kissed her. He kissed her hard and he kissed her greedily.

"I've missed you," he confided, running his hands over her shoulders, past the wispy fabric of her sleeves, and down her bare arms.

"Do you think I've missed you any less?" Leia asked, pulling at the tail of his undershirt until it came free of his trousers. "I wasn't sure I could stand the whole night with you unless this came first," she confessed. Han helped her off with his undershirt before bringing his hands to the where the bodice of her gownmet the sleeves. He barely had to coax the silk from her arms before the entire thing fell to the floor, revealing a very scantily clad princess. Her tiny lace panties matched her dress, and Han sucked in an intense breath at the sight. He'd seen Leia in her underthings before, but she had seemed to have a preference for opaque bodysuits and military-issue skivvies. This was a whole new look for her and he liked it. He liked it _a lot_.

"I love this dress," Han exhaled as he eyed her greedily. Any garment that looked that good on her and came off her this easily was one that he approved of wholeheartedly. Leia smiled at him. His eyes were bigger than she could ever remember seeing them. She stepped sideways, over the pile of silk that was her ball gown and around behind Han, until she could wrap her arms around his waist and press her breasts to the bare skin of his back.

"I'm glad you approve," Leia said back to him as she rubbed her hands up and down his chest and arms. "I'm glad it still fit," she added, kissing the skin between his shoulder blades.

"Where did it come from?" Han asked, leaning his head back as he reached behind him to try and touch her.

"It seems the Alderaanian Consulate had most of my things packed up for an eventual museum exhibit," Leia explained, bringing her hands to the waistband of his trousers. "Someone found the crates in the basement of the embassy and had them brought to my apartment."

"Remind me to thank them," Han said back to her. He let himself enjoy the moment that Leia unfastened his breeches before turning around to look at her. He brought his hands to her face and kissed her again as she pushed his trousers from his hips. Leia broke the kiss very suddenly and stepped away from him. Han could tell that his confusion was clear on his face by the smile that she gave him. Leia placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved him playfully. He tripped over his trousers, which he had completely forgotten were around his ankles, and fell sideways onto the bed. Leia waggled her eyebrows at him as she bent down and pulled his pants over his bare feet and shook them out.

"My dress won't wrinkle," she told him, "but your uniform will." Leia folded his trousers carefully and draped them over the dresser drawer beside her gloves.

"And we couldn't have that," Han joked. He enjoyed the view immensely as she made her way back to where he was laying.

"Absolutely not," she answered, smoothing the thick wool one last time before turning her attention back to Han. "Now," she asked, climbing onto the bunk toward him, "where were we?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Slow down, Princess!" Han called after Leia as they charged down the corridor. "We've got plenty of time." Without stopping her forward progress, Leia turned around just enough to catch his eyes and shook her head.

They had gotten carried away with themselves and had discovered, much to their mutual distress, that they were still in bed with only fifteen minutes until they were scheduled to arrive at the banquet hall. The trip by speeder would take at least twelve. Han had helped Leia back in to her dress and pulled on his trousers while she made quick work of tidying her hairdo. She had buttoned him into his shirt and his jacket, and he hadn't even had time to argue when she insisted that he was to attend this soiree unarmed.

Now they raced, a little faster than dignity would normally have allowed, through the corridors of the barracks and toward Leia's waiting sedan out front. "We do not have plenty of time," she snapped as they reached the door to the landing pad.

"Hey," Han defended, "whose idea was it to come by beforehand in the first place?"

"Like I heard you arguing," Leia quarreled as she skidded across the pad to where Threepio had the car waiting.

"We'll make it," he assured her, pulling open her door for her before darting around to the other side. "Good to see you goldenrod," Han addressed the protocol droid in the driver's seat, "now get out of my way." Han reached into the seat and grabbed Threepio by his legs, tossing him haphazardly into the back seat.

"What are you doing?" Leia asked harshly over the sounds of Threepio's indignant protestations. She pulled her skirt in to the car beside her and shut the door.

"Going to a party," he answered her, waggling is eyebrows as he settled into the driver's seat and took the controls.

"Lovely," Leia grumbled, rolling her eyes. The speeder lurched suddenly forward and, accelerating at an alarming rate, pulled into the lane. Han quickly got past three others going in the same direction before turning sharply to the left and cutting across orthogonal traffic, barely missing a slow -moving transport that might have been on its way to the same place they were. "Han!" She called as another sedan cut across their path, missing them only by inches and only then because Han thought to pull up a few degrees, grazing the other vehicle across its roof with their undercarriage. "You know," she fumed, her eyes wide and her hands white-knuckled on the arm rests of her seat, "the party will be a lot more interesting if we get there in one piece."

"No worries, princess," Han assured her, looking now from the windscreen toward her with his signature smirk playing on his lips. She was angry, he could tell, but she would forgive him when they arrived in time. Leia chuckled. She had no defenses against that smirk and she knew it.

"Easier said than done," she reminded him, grinning back in his direction. She looked into her lap and frowned. "Great," she sighed, shaking her head.

"What is it?" Han asked. He had turned his attention back to where they were going and had missed whatever it was that was vexing the princess now.

"One of my gloves is still in your drawer," she told him, shaking her head. She had grabbed her gloves the very last thing as they had darted out the door and apparently she had only gotten hold of one of them.

"We can go back," Han allowed, "I can run in and get it for you, and get my holdout blaster while I'm at it," he suggested. The farther away from his apartment they got, the more uncomfortable he was becoming with not having a weapon on his person.

"Can you just put this one in your pocket?" Leia asked him, handing over her single glove.

"You're sure?" he asked, hands on the controls, ready to turn around at her word. Leia was frowning at him. "If it's the scanners you're worried about," he added, "I've got more than one vibroknife that'd be small enough to fool them."

"There aren't going to be any scanners, Han," Leia told him. Han almost hit the brakes so they could have this discussion eye to eye, but thought better of it and kept driving.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked, hoping that that statement had been her idea of a very bad joke.

"No," she answered him in all seriousness.

"You mean to tell me that there was a ballroom built in one of Palpatine's palaces with no scanners in it?" he asked her. It was a little hard to believe.

"Oh, they're in there," Leia answered. "But they're not working. When Isard pulled out, she and her people took everything that wasn't red hot or nailed down. The scanners aren't working, and we haven't had the time nor the tools to fix them. And anyway," she added, reaching over to place her hand on his knee; she could tell he was genuinely concerned. "We invited these people here in the spirit of cooperation. We're going to be one republic- we have to start trusting each other."

"Yeah, well…" Han shook his head at the thought of this room full of people left on their honor not to bear arms. "I don't trust anyone," he asserted.

"You trust me," Leia offered, squeezing his knee a little.

"I trusted you enough to let you talk me out of the house without a blaster," he agreed.

"It's a party, Han," Leia reminded him. "These people are our friends and our allies and there is no need for weapons." He grumbled under his breath, but continued in the direction of the palace. Han drove them quickly but safely the few kilometers to the palace and brought the car to a halt in exactly the place he was supposed to.

"See: plenty of time," Han assured Leia as he opened the door and got out, allowing Threepio back into the driver's seat. Leia shook her head. He had managed the trip in just under ten minutes. They weren't late. Han came to her side of the speeder and opened the door for her, reaching for her hand to help her up. Leia took his proffered hand gladly and smiled up at him. Her knees felt wobbly after the unorthodox drive, but she did have to admit that she was glad they had gotten there in one piece and on time; Just another example of Han Solo's prowess with anything with an engine.

Leia stepped from the speeder and onto the red carpet that would lead them into the banquet. Han had begun to fidget as they started into the building; tugging in turn at his collar and the hem of his coat. "Jheez, Leia," he whispered to her, frowning. "What did you do, measure me in my sleep?" Leia chuckled. Han looked incredibly handsome in his dress grays, but apparently he found the uniform somewhat less than ideal.

"I got the sizes for the jacket and the trousers from things you left in my rooms," she answered him. Over the weeks and months that they had been stationed aboard _Home One_ he had left more than one suit of clothes on the floor of her suite overnight, and eventually his things had found their way into a drawer in her dresser. Cleaning droids tended to return laundered clothing to whosever quarters it had been removed from. She did have access to his clothes; he hadn't thought about that. He was still tugging at his collar as he shook his head at her cleverness. "And as for that collar," she added, "I knew your neck was exactly this big around." She was making a gesture with her hands as though she were choking him and Han had to laugh at that.

"Tell me again why this is even necessary," he begged, following her around a corner. Han presumed that Leia, a member of the Provisional Council and therefore among the official hosts of the event, knew where they were going.

"The uniform?" she asked, frowning at him.

"The uniform," he replied, "the party, the whole thing."

"If you didn't want to come with me," Leia began, "you shouldn't have said you would." She stopped walking and looked up at him. Han could tell that he'd just fouled up profoundly.

"I told you I wouldn't be any good at this," he tried to defend himself. Leia's eyes were downcast, and Han was afraid his little jab at the dress uniform had hurt her. "Leia," he sighed, placing his hands on her shoulders, "I don't get the pomp and circumstance," he explained. "I love the sight of you in that dress. And I'd happily stuff myself into this hateful getup every day if it would make you happy, but I'm never going to understand what fancy dinners and whatnot have to do with re-establishing the Senate."

"It's just the way it's done," Leia explained, her eyes coming back up to meet his. "It gives all of the delegates a common pleasant experience to start the Summit off with. We'll have this very civilized dinner and dancing tonight and then the opening ceremonies tomorrow morning and then we'll get to work on…"

"Dancing?" Han interrupted, his wicked frown crossing his face. He was careful not to look too unhappy about the notion, but the news of dancing was a surprise. "There's going to be dancing?" he asked. Leia nodded, a hint of a smile coming to her lips.

"There's always dancing," she replied, patting him on the arm before turning to continue their path along the red carpet toward the room where the function was beginning.

"So I'm supposed to…" Han swallowed hard and shook his head, "dance?" he finished. Leia took his hand and kept walking.

"You don't have to dance, Han," she assured him. "There will be plenty of people who prefer not to."

"But you plan to dance?" he asked. Leia nodded. Of course she would be planning to dance.

"I do," she affirmed. Han frowned and squeezed her hand. She was looking at him with one of her patient smiles and he couldn't help but forget his distaste for social dances. If Leia wanted him to dance with her then dance he would. They rounded another corner and Han was able to immediately identify the entrance to the room where the party would be held. There was a crowd of people spilling out of the door and into the hallway, and HoloNet reporters milling around all of them.

"Am I going to have to stand in some sort of a receiving line?" Han asked. He wasn't fond of that idea; in fact, everything he learned about this party made it that much less appealing in his eyes, but he was determined to seem like he was having a good time. He knew, however, that things like dances and receiving lines were better met with some warning.

"No," Leia answered him, shaking her head subtly. "It's not so formal as that. The official opening of the Summit isn't until tomorrow," she explained, "tonight you'll just be expected to mingle."

"Mingle?" Han groaned. There was another word that made him uncomfortable. Leia was still wearing her patient smile as she nodded her head. "And next you're going to tell me that we're sitting at the head table," he half joked. If there was a head table, Leia would be expected to be sitting at it.

"I'm sitting at the head table," she answered him, "with the rest of the Provisional Council. You're sitting in the back."

"We're not sitting together?" Han was more than a little bit disappointed. He was only going to this blasted party to spend time with Leia. If they weren't even seated together….

"The Provisional Council is at the head table," she explained. "You'll be sitting with people you know. General Madine, General Rieekan, General Tantor, General Cracken, General Dodonna…."

"Oh, I get it," Han sniped at her, "a table full of guys all wearing the same uniform."

"The heroes of the Alliance," Leia corrected him. Han had to stifle a chuckle.

"So what you're saying is that we're not even going to be sitting together," he asked for clarification. This was getting less fun by the minute.

"Yes," Leia admitted plainly. "You're here in your own right," she tried to explain. "You're not my guest, Han. You're just as entitled to be here as anyone else."

"But I'm here to be with you," he reminded her, slinging his arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him.

"And you will be," she answered. "It's just for dinner." Leia shook her head and sighed. "I thought you'd be happy to sit in the back with people you know instead of up front and feeling like you're on display," she told him.

"You may have a point there, princess," he said back to her, "but that doesn't mean I have to be happy about sitting across the room from you."

"It's just for dinner," she reiterated, "once the dancing starts we can sit together."

"But you're going to want to dance," he asserted, "you already told me that."

"If someone asks me to dance I won't say no," she answered, looking sidelong at him as though that were a hint.

"And the rest of the time we're supposed to mingle," he asked, trying his best to ignore her previous comment.

"Yes," Leia grinned as she replied. "Starting right now." Leia was waving to someone in the distance. "Come on," she urged Han, moving his hand from around her waist and taking a respectable hold of his arm, "there are some people I want to introduce you to."

"Introduce me?" Han asked. He hadn't thought about that. There were going to be people here tonight who had known Leia during her tenure in the Imperial Senate— all sorts of important political types with whom he would be expected to make polite conversation. But even more frightening than that was the question in Han's mind as to what these introductions might be like. "And just how are you going to introduce me," he asked, "to your Senate friends?" Leia slowed her pace and looked at him strangely.

"What do you mean by that?" she quizzed. Han shrugged and squeezed her hand where it rested on his arm.

"This is my _friend_ , General Solo," he offered as example, "my _dear_ friend: my… colleague?" Leia sighed and shook her head.

"You're concerned about that?" she asked him. "With everything that's going on right now, you're worried about what title I give our relationship?"

"Yeah," Han admitted. "Have you even thought about it?" he asked.

"No," Leia answered plainly. "It never crossed my mind. I suppose I'll just say 'I'd like you to meet General Han Solo' and keep my hand on your arm and let them draw their own conclusions."

"You could just introduce me as your fiancé," Han suggested. He felt Leia's hand tense against his arm as her face became suddenly very serious.

"Was that a proposal?" she asked, sounding something between amused and angry. Han swallowed hard. He hadn't really meant for it to be. He'd figured for years now that he would propose to her eventually, but he'd really only made the suggestion as a dignified way for Leia to explain that they'd be leaving together.

"Should it be?" Han asked by way of reply.

"If it was," Leia sighed back at him, "then it was the weakest one I've ever heard."

"You've heard others?" Han quizzed. She hadn't ever mentioned being proposed to before.

"The weakest I've ever heard _of_ ," she corrected. Han frowned.

"Oh," he allowed. Damn. That hadn't gone over so well.

"If that's something you would really like to discuss," she said back to him in her most diplomatic tone, "then we can certainly discuss it. But now is not the time."

"All right, princess," Han allowed, preferring to drop it at her suggestion rather than force a conversation upon her that perhaps neither of them were truly ready to have. "Now, where are these people I'm supposed to meet?" Leia leaned her head against his arm for a second before answering.

"Right here," she told him as they approached a pair of gentlemen standing just outside the door to the ballroom. The men were smiling at Leia as they approached and Han was sure that he had some idea as to who these people were. Their manner of dress and carriage said enough about them that they might as well have had 'Alderaanian delegation' printed across their foreheads.

"Good evening your highness," the elder of the two, greeted Leia as she and Han reached them. He was a portly man with reddish brown hair and thick eyebrows, greeted Leia as she and Han reached them. a deference to Leia that Han could see in his every motion. So this was what it was like to be face-to-face with an honest-to-stars royal subject….

"Councilor Horm," Leia said back to him, inclining her head toward him.

"Highness," the younger man stuttered. He seemed nervous; wouldn't look Leia in the eye. He seemed nervous, far less practiced at greeting the sovereign than his counterpart; he couldn't seem to look Leia in the eye. His snow -white hair hung in his face as he fidgeted under himself.

"Councilor Omas," Leia greeted him as well, widening her eyes to try and catch his gaze. "I'd like the both of you to meet someone very dear to me," Leia said to them, squeezing Han's arm a little as she said it, hoping that was enough. "Threkin Horm, Cal Omas," she began, "this is General Han Solo." She then turned her attention to Han. "Councilor Horm and Councilor Omas are here from New Alderaan," she explained. Han nodded as he reached out to shake Horm's proffered hand.

"General," Horm addressed Han, shaking his hand firmly. "It's always a pleasure to meet a friend of the Princess."

"Likewise," Han said back to the man.

"How are things on New Alderaan?" Leia asked the two delegates.

"Well," a nervous sounding Cal Omas answered her. "Very well," he added.

"We're looking forward to the elections," Horm chimed in, saving his uncomfortable colleague from having to make further comment.

"Aren't we all," Leia said back, eliciting enthusiastic nods from both Horm and Omas.

"Leia," Han said to her quietly, "looks like…" he gestured with his head to the open doors to the main room, where the throngs of milling people were beginning to file in.

"Shall we?" Leia asked Han and the others. All three gentlemen nodded in agreement and followed Leia toward the door. "This is so very exciting, isn't it?" she asked, generically to the two Alderaanian gentlemen as they walked alongside of her.

"Oh it is, it is," Horm answered her with a broad smile.

"Can I count on a dance later?" Leia asked the elder man, smiling disarmingly at him. Han had to rein in his tendency toward jealousy just then; reminding himself that the portly Alderaanian gentleman was nothing for him to be concerned about.

"Oh, no highness," Horm answered her, chuckling softly at the notion. Han seriously doubted that his stout frame had been up for dancing anytime in recent memory. "But perhaps Councilor Omas," he offered. Cal Omas blushed at the suggestion.

"I'd be honored, your highness," Omas said quietly. Leia smiled and placed a hand on the man's arm.

"I shall look forward to it," Leia assured him. She nodded to the both of them again before adding, "If you'll excuse us."

"By all means," Horm answered. Leia smiled at them once again as she and Han headed more intently toward the door.

"What was that all about?" Han asked, once he was sure the other two were out of earshot. He was hoping that Leia would read his annoyance as sarcasm.; he really didn't want to start this night off with a spat.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, her brow furrowing as she cast her gaze at him. Nope, she hadn't taken that lightly at all.

"You," he replied. No use lying to her. "Asking other men to dance?" Leia shook her head and sighed heavily.

"You sound jealous," she chuckled.

"Maybe I am," he retorted. "I bring a girl to a party and she wants to dance with somebody else."

"I'm expected to dance with the members of the Alderaanian delegation," Leia said to him, recalling countless lessons from her childhood in such protocol. "But tradition won't allow them to ask me. So, as I have done at every diplomatic function since I was seventeen, I asked the senior delegate for a dance."

"But you'll be dancing with the junior delegate," Han reminded her. Had the corpulent and elderly Councilor Horm accepted her invitation to dance, he figured he might feel a little less inclined to put his fist through something. He pretty well hated the idea of Leia sharing a dance with the handsome, young, and so obviously Alderaanian diplomat. Cal Omas seemed like just the kind of guy Leia might have wound up with had her planet not been destroyed by the Death Star: the kind of guy a princess might be expected to make time with. Han wasn't fond of such competition.

"You'll get over it," Leia jabbed, smirking up at him. She remembered his jealousy directed at Luke, back before he had learned that Luke and Leia were brother and sister. But that was more than two years ago, and their relationship had only grown stronger as the time had passed. It was a little bit surprising to Leia that Han was still so prone to such insecurity. She had thought they were past that stage. Sometimes she was just sure that she would never fully understand him. One minute he had thought to bring up the subject of marriage and the next he'd acted as though afraid he'd lose her to one of the Summit delegates. Han was grumbling under his breath, but caught himself before his face slid into a full-scale frown.

"Smile for the camera, highness," he whispered into her ear as he caught sight of the near dozen HoloNet News cameras that surrounded and spilled through the entrance to the ballroom. Leia chuckled a little and sidled up closer to him. Maybe his insane jealousy would be quelled a little if she made a show of being close to him for the benefit of the cameras. Han smiled down at her, well aware of what she was doing and why. He had to admit that she was good to him.

They were still smiling at each other as they passed through the outer doors to the ballroom. The metallic outer doors were standing open but Han and Leia were forced to wait for the two inner doors, giant wooden artifices that parted for them automatically (albeit with no particular haste) to come open. Han guessed that in Palpatine's day this vestibule had been lined with guards and teeming with scanners. It would have been easy enough to calibrate scanners to any species and scan them down to the last molecule in the time it took for the inner doors to open up. Tonight Han knew the scanners weren't functioning. And where there had likely once been Imperial Storm Troopers standing guard, now there stood a gauntlet of camera people from News Net stations from all over the known galaxy.

As they proceeded through the inner set of doors, Han was taken slightly aback by the sheer size of the place. Sure, the doors were giant, but that had hardly prepared him for the scale of the banquet hall. This was the largest room—hangar bays not included, perhaps— that Han had ever heard tell of, much less experienced firsthand. Not that he was any connoisseur of Imperial Era banquet facilities, but this place was too big; it made him that much more itchy for his blaster.

The round tables that took up much of the floor space were arranged in rows graduated in size from the walls to the periphery of the tiled dance floor in the center. This arrangement gave the room the feeling of being even larger; fooling the eye into believing the tables against the wall were farther afield instead of just marginally smaller than those in the center. At the far end, on a slightly raised platform, Han could see the long rectangular head table. Just how far away from Leia would he be all night?

There were representatives in this room from every species Han had ever heard of, and more than a few that he had never seen before. There were the usual suspects, of course: races of people Han had seen at the First Conference of Free Peoples and the Galactic Congress on Zhotta 3. But there were also Bith, Calibops, Shistavanen, Drall, and Gungans, in addition to the literally hundreds of humans (including the Alderaanians who had somehow managed to slip into the room ahead of Han and Leia). None of those had been any real surprise, but Han was a little bit shocked to see Rodians, Snivvians, Chadra-Fan, Gammoreans, Squibs, Devaronians, Barabels, and at least a dozen species he couldn't even place. They were spread out, some chatting in homogenous groups and others mingling with small bands of dissimilar species.

"Wow," Han said to Leia candidly. "I had no idea." Leia nodded and patted his arm.

"We're very pleased with the turnout," she shared quietly. "Nearly all of the non-human species that we invited took us up on the invitation."

"And plenty of the humans, too," Han observed. Leia nodded again.

"This Summit should be very productive," she asserted.

"And you're sure there are no Imperials?" he asked, still scanning the room awe-struck at the diversity in the crowd.

"None," Leia assured him. "Although several worlds with suspected Imperial loyalties did petition to attend, we chose not to limit the invitations." She leaned in closer to Han and continued, "The Inner Council was aware enough that security could be a concern at so large a gathering; particularly in light of the fact that there is scarcely a scanner or a surveillance system in operation in Imperial Center at the moment." She shrugged her shoulders. "Better that we handle this among friends," she asserted, "allow ourselves to build the government that we want. If any world that prospered under Palpatine wishes to join us once that is accomplished, then the New Republic will consider their petitions for membership one at a time and on their own merits."

"You seem to have everything under control, princess," Han allowed, trying not to frown as he considered the size of the crowd and the fact that there was nothing but the honor system to ensure none of them were armed or dangerous. Leia may trust these people, but he didn't.

"Don't sound so surprised," Leia whispered in reply, winking at him as she took her hand from his arm and waved at someone across the room. Han rose up on tip toes to try and see who had caught Leia's attention, but he had no idea; the crowd was just too big. He must have worn that wonder all over his face because Leia answered his question without his having had to ask it. "I need to go," she said to him, "Mon Mothma and Councilor Beruss are waiting for me; everyone else is taking their seats. Your table is back there," she added, pointing to the back left-hand corner of the room. "I'll see you after dinner." Leia squeezed his arm lightly before letting go. Han nodded, rolling his eyes at the assigned seating, but letting her go.

He turned to head toward his own table. Leia hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said it was in the back. Han recognized several others in New Republic officers' uniforms gathered in the extreme rear corner Leia had pointed to. Could they have seated him any farther from her? As Han approached the table he was able to easily recognize the voice, and the billowing velvet cape, of an old friend. Lando Calrissian, _General_ Lando Calrissian, had his back to the room and was chatting enthusiastically with an amused-looking General Cracken who was already seated.

"I'm afraid I'm losing confidence in this Republic already," Han heckled, clapping his hand on his old friend's shoulder. "I mean: since when did they let the likes of you into parties like this one?"

Lando turned around to greet him, putting out his hand for a shake and grinning from ear to ear. "Since I took out the Death Star," Lando answered his question, pointing at the General's insignia on his lapel.

"Yeah, in my ship," Han reminded him, smirking at the retort.

"How ya doin' you old pirate?" Calrissian asked his old friend.

"Can't complain," Han answered him with a shrug. The truth was; he _could_ complain, about a lot of things, beginning with the uniform and ending with the seating arrangement. And had it just been the two of them he likely would have. Lando was as sympathetic an ear as he was likely to find. However, with General Cracken in earshot Han chose discretion as the better part of valor.

"You've just missed a trip to the bar," Lando told him. A drink might do some good right now, but Han figured that staying sober would be the wiser choice in the long run.

"I'm probably better off," Han allowed, "I'm on my best behavior tonight."

"So I'm noticing," Lando commented, stepping back just enough to get a good view of Han in his uniform. "Look at you," he declared, "spit and polished, got a haircut, medals all shining…" Lando shook his head in amusement.

"Poke fun all you want, Lando," Han jeered, "I didn't see you walking in here with a princess tonight." Lando chuckled and threw up his arms as though in surrender.

"And how is the lovely Leia?" Calrissian asked, pulling out the chair beside Cracken's and taking a seat.

"She's great," Han answered, wishing instantly that he had managed to keep a little bit of his fascination with her out of his voice. Hopefully Lando would let that slide.

"All right Solo," another familiar voice sounded from behind him, "we get it. You got the girl; you don't have to rub it in." Han shook his head; this dinner might not be as lame as he'd originally posited.

"Wedge Antilles!" Han greeted the new arrival, seating himself beside Lando and watching as the younger man handed over a frosted glass of light blue Gizer Ale to Lando. "Pardon me for brusqueness," he added, "but what the hell are you doing here?" Wedge Antilles, although lauded as the 'Conqueror of Coruscant' and widely revered as the only pilot to have flown sorties to both Death Stars, had done his level best to avoid parties like this one. He was a regular guy, and a military man, the kind who would much rather be overflying the place looking for anything suspicious than sitting down to a fancy dinner. Come to think of it: Han and Wedge had than in common.

Antilles sighed and sank into the chair to Han's left. "Skywalker," he groaned, frowning intently. "He was scheduled to be back from Terephon yesterday. But he's not back yet. And I was the first guy with enough of these to his name," Wedge pointed to the medals pinned to his uniform coat, "that Admiral Ackbar saw in the hall."

"Let me get this straight, Wedge," a relaxed looking General Rieekan inserted as he approached the table from the same direction Wedge had come. He had a glass of teal-colored wine in his hand, which he set on the table before taking a seat on the far side of Cracken. "You're attending the welcome dinner of the New Republic Charter Summit because you were in the hallway at the wrong time?" Rieekan was smirking at that; he had known Wedge long enough to understand what made that so funny.

"Actually, I was in the hangar," Antilles answered the older man. He took a sip of his drink and shook his head. "Maybe Ackbar came looking for me, I don't know," he admitted, "but I'm here—because there can't be an empty chair and Skywalker's late getting back."

"Is that something we should be worried about?" Han asked, turning to General Cracken. Airen Cracken was the head of New Republic Intelligence, and would be the one person who would know if Luke's absence was something that should concern him greatly.

"No," Cracken replied immediately, shaking his head slowly and shrugging his shoulders. "I'd say it was a little optimistic to begin with thinking that he'd be back in time for the opening ceremonies," he added.

"And with the Vice Ducha along," Lando added, shaking his head as he took up his drink again. Han had apparently missed something. He had been marginally aware of the fact Luke had gone as emissary to a world considering sending a delegation to the Summit, but that was all he knew.

"Why's that such a stretch?" Han asked Lando casually. Calrissian shook his head.

"You really should read more intelligence reports," he teased.

Han shrugged. He had to admit to himself that he scarcely ever paid attention to the daily reports sent out by New Republic Intelligence. The memo went out to all high ranking military personnel, but rarely did it actually affect him. Usually, he scanned the first several pages for anything concerning Leia and then went straight to the smashball scores that were inevitably at the end of the document; an old joke that had become SOP. It was likely that the day Luke's mission was included he had skipped reading the thing altogether.

"Yeah, I guess," Han conceded. "Somebody want to tell me anyway?" he asked, leaning on the table in Lando's direction.

"The short version:" General Cracken answered. "Terephon is the only planet in the Hapes consortium that answered the invitation at all. The other worlds acted as though it never arrived; which is odd, because Terephon is the hardest to get to. It's out in the Transitory Mists and they tend to have very little to do with other worlds, even other Hapan worlds. Apparently the Ducha of Terephon was interested in sending a delegation to the Summit, but the Queen Mother of the Hapan Cluster found out and came out against it. The New Republic Inner Council, who had been rather pleased at the response from even one world inside the Hapes Cluster, decided to try and smooth any ruffled feathers the Queen Mother might have over the Ducha of a single planet showing dissonance. They decided Skywalker was the man for the job. Unfortunately, the Queen Mother wanted nothing to do with meeting with Luke or anyone else from the New Republic. But Luke thought it best to make the trip anyway. He wanted to see what he could do to convince the Terephon delegation to attend the Summit regardless of the feelings of the Queen Mother."

"And he was due back yesterday," Wedge reiterated.

"Has anyone heard anything?" Han asked, his brow furrowing at the idea of Luke being more than a day overdue and no one seeming to care.

"No," Cracken answered again. "But that's to be expected. The Mists block out long range holocomm transmissions. He couldn't get word to us if he wanted to." Han nodded his head. He had a bad feeling about this.

Han watched as Leia and the other members of the Provisional Council stepped onto the small riser and took their seats at the head table. Surely if something had happened to Luke, she would know about it. They had a sense of each other like that; it had saved both of their lives on more than one occasion- even before they had known what was behind it. And it was likely that she was the one to have suggested Luke be the emissary to begin with. Even if that wasn't the case: Han knew that Leia _did_ read the Intelligence Reports every day and that she knew where her brother was and what he was supposed to be doing.

Han was watching Leia's face for any sign of discord, of concern or trouble; but he found none. She looked the picture of serenity— blissful even— as she took her seat on the dais between Mon Mothma and Borsk Fey'lya. Leia looked beautiful and right at home in the center of attention. Han felt himself aspiring to be there with her, just to be beside her as she enjoyed the fruits of the battles they'd fought. He had been studying her so hard that he somehow missed Generals Dodonna, Madine, and Tantor seating themselves between Rieekan and Wedge.

"Sure you don't need a drink there, Solo," Wedge commented, pulling Han out of his reverie and contemplation. If Leia could relax and not worry about Luke, then he could do his best to enjoy this evening as well. And the Provisional Council had known what they were doing; putting this bunch in the back corner. The 'Heroes of the Alliance' were both the least likely people to care if they were seen by the others at the party and the only people who wouldn't be offended by being the farthest from the center of action. Not to mention the clearly deliberate reality that they were able to get to and from the bar with ease and relative stealth. If the heroes of the Alliance wanted to get plastered at this event, no one was going to stop them. But still, Han knew himself, and the last thing he ought to consider at this party was getting too buzzed and running the risk saying or doing something that could have galactic consequences or worse.

"Nah," Han answered, letting his concern for Luke dissolve as he turned to face his buddy.

"He's just staring at the princess," Lando posited. Han cast a frown at his old friend. "Not that I blame you," Lando amended. Han shrugged.

"It's just that when you bring a girl to a party," he replied, "you kind of want to see her." Lando and Wedge chuckled at that. Han thought he saw General Rieekan suppressing a smile as well. The elder General had known Leia since her childhood and had been a close associate of her father. Han had wondered more than once what Rieekan might have said privately to her about her association with the former smuggler, and his smile at this juncture was more a comfort to Han than he might have guessed.

"You can see her fine from there," Lando joked.

"If one of you gentlemen happens to have a pair of electrobinoculars," Han jested back.

"Dinner's coming out already," General Madine chimed in, gesturing with his head to the service droids entering through small portals that had opened up in the wood paneling of the room.

"Only the first course," Rieekan commented.

"How many courses are we dealing with?" Wedge asked, his eyes growing wide at the mention of the word 'only'.

"Eleven," Lando replied to his question, a broad smile crossing his face. "Eleven delectable courses of Ithorian cuisine," he added, waggling his eyebrows at the thought of dinner.

"The Ithorians have brought some of their most celebrated chefs," General Rieekan added, sipping his wine. "It should be quite a meal."


	3. Chapter 3

Han Solo could not recall another time in his life when he had been served an eleven-course meal. He imagined, though, that a meal of that length ought not to leave a man feeling so hungry. No one had bothered to remind Han, or anyone at his table for that matter, that the Ithorians were an herbivorous people.

Ithorian haute cuisine had come to Coruscant in the form of eleven courses consisting entirely of flowers. Flower buds and flower petals, marinated flowers, little flowers in a row on a skewer, candied flowers, flambeed flowers and raw flowers had come out on plate after plate after plate. The consensus among the 'heroes of the Alliance' was that they hoped to make it to the mess hall when the banquet was done before the doors were locked for the night.

Only General Rieekan and Lando had seemed to enjoy the dinner. It wasn't that the food was bad; just that there wasn't nearly enough of it. Rieekan was Alderaanian, and if Leia was any indication, they were not a people known for their legendary appetites. And Lando had a penchant for seeming to enjoy anything that smacked to him of class or of culture. Han had no such pretense. What he did have was every intention of sending Threepio out for cakes and custard as soon as he and Leia were out of there; and that was only because he was afraid it might offend the princess were he to send the droid out for nerfburgers.

The dessert course, an airy soufflé served within a flash fried blossom and coated with sugars, had barely been cleared from the tables in the back when the orchestra began to play. Those at the head table, whose plates had been cleared first, were up and dancing before Han could even reach for his napkin. Leia was dancing with Councilor SoBilles, Mon Mothma with Admiral Ackbar, and Councilor Beruss with Councilor Tew. This was clearly an indication that it was the proper time to dance.

Han rolled his eyes and shook his head as he placed his napkin onto the table and stood from his chair. The service droids were passing around after dinner cocktails and Han decided to help himself to one. One drink was never the problem. And a little libation might make the rest of the party a little bit less insufferable. He was quite pleased to recognize the beverage as Chandrilan brandy; a welcome change from flower products. Lando stood from his chair as well and took hold of one of the snifters from the passing droid. The two of them began to drift toward the dance floor as the music changed very suddenly.

Han shook his head. Before he could even register that the first song had ended and another had begun, Leia was dancing with Cal Omas. Obviously the New Alderaan delegation had been seated front and center. Han took a sip of his brandy and tried to swallow his jealousy along with it. Lando chuckled.

"So I shouldn't plan on asking her to dance?" he asked, nudging Han with his elbow.

"Ask away, buddy," Han sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, "you I wouldn't worry about." Lando nodded.

"So what's the story with that guy?" Lando asked candidly, moving a little closer to Han so that they could talk without being overheard by the large contingent of Ho'Din just ahead of them and to the left.

"Guess," Han groaned, sipping at his brandy snifter.

"He's from Alderaan," Lando stated plainly. Han nodded. Lando knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't be nervous over much less than that.

"Yep," Han confirmed. "Ambassador Cal Omas," he told Lando, "Leia introduced us earlier."

"Then you know nothing's going on," Lando encouraged. "Leia's not dumb. She wouldn't have introduced you to a guy she was messing around with."

"Leia's not messing around," Han allowed, finishing the brandy in his glass and setting it on the convenient tray of a passing service droid.

"Feel better now that you've said it out loud?" Lando asked, raising his eyebrows. Han shook his head and chuckled. Leave it to Calrissian to make him laugh at himself.

"You think I'm being ridiculous," he posited. Lando nodded.

"Mm-hmm," he sounded back. "But I'm not the one who said it." Han shrugged. At least Lando understood. He was way out of his league and he knew it; and the fact that Lando knew it too could be both a blessing and a curse. But at least it was good to have someone to commiserate with. "Now go cut in when the music changes," Lando insisted, pointing to the musicians on the platform who were all simultaneously turning pages of sheet music; an indication that the tune was about to change again. Han clapped Lando on the arm briefly before doing just what he suggested. He managed to position himself not far from where Leia and Omas were dancing and listened closely to the sound of the instruments.

The Coruscanti music wasn't familiar to Han, but the dancing that was going on seemed tame enough that he could handle it. He was careful to be in range to take Leia's elbow as soon as he was sure the tune was changing. Leia stepped away from Omas and had barely the time to give the Councilor a parting nod before Han had her in his arms and they began to move into the figure of the next dance.

The dance floor had gotten mighty crowded and Han had to hold Leia close to him for them to be able to move at all. His right arm was wrapped tightly around her waist and his left hand held her right hand against his chest. She smiled up at him, pleased at both his current proximity to her and his willingness to dance.

"Are you having a good time?" she asked him, tilting her face up to look him in the eye. Han smiled down at her; she was radiantly beautiful. He could tell by the tone in her voice as she asked the question that she was very proud of what was going on in this room tonight. Best to save the food critiques for later.

"I am now," he replied, squeezing her a little tighter in an attempt to flirt. Leia narrowed her eyes. What hadn't he liked up until now? "I wasn't sure I'd ever get to dance with you," Han added to his earlier comment, he could tell that she had taken his flirting with a grain of salt. She smiled again.

"The last dance of the night is going to be a Corellian three step," she said quietly. "I already spoke to the conductor. I was saving that one for you no matter who else asked." Han couldn't help himself but smile down at her. She thought of everything.

"That will make it easier for us to leave together," he whispered, drawing himself close to her again.

"That was the intention," Leia flirted back.

"So will I get to see the inside of the Alderaanian Consulate tonight," Han asked her, "or will we be going back to get your other glove?" Leia sighed softly. She knew that Han's question was motivated out of more than immediate practical concern. He wanted to know just how out in the open their relationship was going to be here on Coruscant. Was she willing to be seen by the staff at the Alderaanian Consulate letting him walk her to, or through, her door? And was she willing to run the risk of his being seen leaving in the morning and the obvious conclusion that he had stayed the night?

Of course she was. But the fact remained that her apartment was not exactly ready to receive company. Still, she would rather Han see her rooms in disarray than have him think even for a minute that she was ashamed of him. "We can go to my place," she answered, "but I'm afraid when you see it you won't want to stay there for long." Han cocked his head to the side.

"You saw the state of my quarters," he reminded her of the mess she had walked into earlier in the night. Leia shook her head.

"Remember when I told you that they were storing most of my things in museum crates?" she asked him. Han nodded as she continued, "They've all been delivered to my rooms," she explained, "but I've scarcely begun to unpack them. I can just imagine you getting up in the middle of the night to get a or use the 'fresher, tripping over something in the dark, falling on your face and breaking your nose. Then I'm left to explain to the medical staff how it happened." Han laughed out loud at that. She had a point; he did tend to get out of bed without being fully awake, and it would be just like him to fall face first into the floor. He whirled her around in the little bit of space they had to dance in and brought her fingers to his lips for a quick kiss.

"How about I swear to you that once the lights are out I won't get out of bed again until the sun is up," he offered. Leia tilted her face up to smile up at him again.

"Sounds promising," she agreed. Han grinned wickedly at her. "I suppo…." Leia stopped suddenly mid-syllable and inhaled sharply. Her head dropped and a pained expression came to her features. In an instant, her face blanched. Han let go of her hand and tilted her chin toward him, wondering what sudden distress had come over her. She wanted to scream, to cry out in pain; but she found that she had no voice with which to do so. It was all that she could do to try and look at Han, to try and make some sense of what was happening….

"Leia?" Han said sternly, his voice clearly betraying his sudden panic. He couldn't get her attention and he didn't understand why. And when she finally did look at him, her eyes wouldn't focus. In his peripheral vision Han caught sight of the cause of her upset. Two holes had appeared in the right-hand side of her dress, each of them growing redder by the instant with the blood that was now staining the bodice of blue-white silk. Leia was suddenly very unsteady on her feet. Han moved his arm from around her waist to help her lie down, trying to ignore the feeling of the hot sticky blood that his hand passed through on its way to her side. Leia's blood.

The others on the dance floor must have seen what was happening; a woman screamed. And then another. And then came the sudden clatter of weapons being drawn on all sides of them, trained on whoever made a convenient target. As Han carefully lowered Leia to the floor, he managed to see vibroknives and hold out blasters at the ready on all sides of them. One Twi'lek woman removed a leather whip from her headdress and those species with natural defenses made ready to use them; Wookiees and Barabels showing claws and Koboks bringing venomous barbs to bear.

Han tensed his jaw and sighed. So much for the honor system. "Somebody call for a medic!" he yelled into the now armed-to-the-teeth crowd as he settled Leia onto the floor. She managed a tiny smile at him; aware now that at her insistence he was likely the only unarmed man at the party. Not that a blaster or a vibroknife would have done him much good. The blood continued to seep from the two large, round holes in the right side of her abdomen, soaking her gown and spilling from her back onto the floor beneath her. Han quickly removed his uniform jacket and wadded it up, stuffing it under her neck to support her head; anything that might make her even marginally more comfortable was worth the effort at the moment.

"Han," Leia began to whisper. She had started to shiver, and her breathing was rapid and shallow.

"Shhh," he said, "don't try to talk." He took hold of her left hand with his right and with is left he softly stroked her forehead where clammy perspiration had begun to appear. Han wasn't trained as a medic, but he knew shock when he saw it. "Just look at me," he told her. He had to try to keep her conscious as long as possible. Her eyes fixed on his and Han tried his best not to let his fear for her show. "Stay with me, princess," he encouraged. "Help is coming." Han tried to smile at her; tried to be as reassuring as possible. He continued to stroke her brow, her cheeks, her hair, trying to give her sensations other than the pain to focus on.

Leia held his gaze for as long as she could and then squeezed his hand tighter once she finally let her eyes shut; a signal to him that she was still fighting. "Hold on, sweetheart," he whispered to her just as her hand went slack. He could hear the medics in the corridor by then and could only hope that they had gotten there in time.

The crowd, still armed but standing down, parted to allow the group of four medics and the repulsor-powered gurney through the ballroom and onto the dance floor to Leia. The gurney set down just beside her and four small droids detached themselves from the four corners. The droids arranged themselves on either side of the now unconscious Leia and each extended several long, slender rods from their undersides. The rods slid easily beneath the princess and the droids then lifted off again; moving her with them from the floor onto the padded platform before retracting their rods and reattaching themselves to the gurney. While the droids did the work of lifting, two of the medics came over to Leia as well, one immediately pushing Han out of the way and inserting an intravenous line into her left arm while the other placed some sort of diagnostic instrument on her chest just above the line of her dress.

Han followed as the medics guided the hovering stretcher toward the door. He reached again for Leia's hand and was given a rather stern look by one of the men tending to her. If this guy thought for a minute that he was about to leave Leia's side, then Han was about to start a fight. "Han!" Lando called out as though he had read his buddy's mind. Han turned toward the sound of his friend's voice just in time to catch the blaster Lando had tossed in his direction. Han nodded back in his friend's direction and then made eye contact with the disagreeable medic, showing the blaster to him for emphasis. The medic shook his head, but offered no further resistance.

They made it out of the ballroom without asking him to let go of her again.


	4. Chapter 4

Han hated hospitals. He remembered that. But he had never hated being anyplace; not a mud pit on Nal Hutta, not the garbage chute on the Death Star, more than he hated being in this hospital at this moment. He paced back and forth a short track in the anteroom leading to the surgical suite where Leia had been taken when the medics had finally pried her hand from his. He had no idea how much time had passed since then.

He felt helpless and he felt trapped. There were a pair of Coruscant Security Force officers in this tiny room with him and another pair on the other side of the doors. Han knew, of course, that someone had just made an attempt on the life of a member of the New Republic Provisional Council; that was certainly justification for the tightened security. But somehow that ceased to matter in the slightest to him. He felt as though these people were intruding on his private moment of fear and madness. The woman he loved had been hurt and might be dying and this was absolutely no place for a security detail. He'd made sure to put some distance between himself and the borrowed hold out blaster that he'd gotten from Lando in the ballroom; at least he was going to do his best to see to it that no one wound up shooting at each other.

"Han," someone called from the doorway. Solo turned just in time to see Lando and Chewie coming toward him. Chewbacca charged in, grabbing Han around the waist and hugging him tightly. Han mumbled to his Wookiee friend to put him down, but Chewie seemed to either not hear or not understand. It was only when Lando urged him to do so that the Wookiee set his friend back on his own two feet. Once again under his own control, Han looked to Lando. He pointed to the blaster where it lay on a nearby bench.

"There's your piece," Han said, turning away from the newcomers to face the door to the operating rooms. "Thanks for the loan."

"No problem," Lando replied, stepping over to the bench to retrieve his weapon. Chewie warbled a question as to Leia's well-being.

"Not good, pal," Han answered the Wookiee. "She's still in surgery," Han shook his head as heturned to explain what little he knew to the two of them. "Other than that, nobody's told me anything." Chewie moaned as he placed his giant paws on Han's shoulders.

"Sorry we weren't here sooner," Lando apologized to Han. He moved to stand next to Chewie. "But you ought to see the crowd out front of this place. I came back in to check on you after I called for the medics, and as soon as I knew you were on your way here I went to get Chewie," he explained. "By the time we got over here there was a full-on mob outside."

"You're the one who called for the medics?" Han asked. He had wondered which of the guests had summoned the presence of mind to stop panicking long enough to call.

"Yeah; that was me."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem. What's with them?" Lando asked then, gesturing with his head toward the two police officers on their side of the door.

"Security detail," Han groaned. "Leia's really important," he tried to joke but found himself failing miserably. He was choked up at that— at the thought of how important Leia was, not to the New Republic, but to him. Lando clapped him on the shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do?" Lando asked, squeezing his friend's shoulder and trying to catch his gaze. Han shook his head. There was nothing that anyone could do for him right now. All the sudden Han felt like somebody had punched him in the chest. There was something….

"Luke," he replied, his eyes growing wide at the thought of his having forgotten that Luke wasn't here. "Somebody's got to get word to Luke," he affirmed.

"That's being handled," Lando assured him. "Wedge already took off." Han let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Good man, Wedge. "He was already on his way off planet by the time Chewie and I were on the way over here," Lando went on. "He'll be to Luke on Terephon day after tomorrow. He thought it was better to just go than to try and relay a message through a Hapan system that isn't too pleased with the New Republic. Anyway," he added, "it'll be better that Luke hear it from a friend and in person."

"Yeah," Han affirmed, nodding his head. He tried to put himself in Luke's place. Leia's brother would undoubtedly be upset when he heard, and it was better to have trusted company when bad news came in. If the shoe had been on the other proverbial foot, he'd have hoped that Lando or Chewie or Wedge came after him while Luke stayed with Leia. In fact, this night was already a little bit easier to bear with friends about. "If I were him," he added, "and away when this happened; I'd want to know."

"What I want to know," Lando injected, obviously trying to lighten the mood in the room just slightly, "Is just how Han Solo came to be the only unarmed person in that ballroom tonight." Han shook his head.

"She said so," Han answered him softly. He looked again in the direction of the operating rooms. "Leia told me not to bring a weapon, so I didn't." Chewie yowled a joke about the princess strip-searching him on the way out the door.

"Yeah, I bet she did," Lando chuckled, punching Han lightly in the bicep.

"Hey guys," Han snapped. "How about we not make any jokes at Leia's expense right now?" he suggested strongly. Chewie whimpered and Lando shook his head.

"Can't make any promises, buddy," Lando replied. Han frowned at his friend. "As long as I can make jokes then it's not so bad," he explained. "As long as we can have a laugh then everything's going to be okay." Han nodded his head. He understood; he really did. Laughter as a means to escape any other emotion had been among his own preferred defense mechanisms in the past. If Lando had to make light of this situation then he wasn't going to give the guy too much grief over it.

"Yeah, okay," Han allowed, wrapping his arms around himself and letting out a slow breath; a relaxation technique that Leia had shown him. He wasn't convinced it would do any good, but it was worth a try. Anything was worth a try to keep his head on his shoulders at the moment.

The doors to the surgical suite hissed open and Han turned sharply toward the sound. A droid came through the doors, looked around, and turned again— retreating from whence it came. What the hell? Han had to wonder if word of his epic distaste for droids had somehow reached the Coruscanti medical establishment. And if it was bad news…? Han had scarcely the time to ponder that 'if' before the doors came open again.

This time, a young man entered the room. He had to be a nurse, or a tech… or something; he was wearing a lab coat but was far too young to be a doctor. A medical student, maybe. His hair was as white as Omas' and his eyes were puffy and bloodshot as though he had been crying. Han would have put money on this guy's being from Alderaan.

"General Solo," the young man's voice greeted, not finding a way to meet Han's gaze. "Her Highness has made it through the surgery." He daubed at his eyes with his left sleeve. Yep: Alderaanian. Anyone else would have said 'Councilor Organa'. "She sustained massive internal injuries," he explained. "But we've been able to repair much of the damage and replace her depleted blood volume. She's on an intravenous bacta solution and medications to support her blood pressure. If she remains stable for the next couple of hours we'll begin her on full bacta treatments. Until then we're keeping her sedated." He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes again. "Do you have any questions?"

"Can I see her?" Han asked. It was the only thing that mattered at the moment. Eventually he would want to know the extent of her injuries, exactly what had happened to her— but for now he only wanted to be let in to see Leia. The young Alderaanian man began to nod his head.

"Of course…."

"I'm afraid that is quite out of the question," a voice sounded from the back of the room. Han turned on his heel. He had been so involved in what the young man was saying that he hadn't noticed Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar, and General Rieekan coming in behind him. But the remark hadn't come from any of them; they too had all turned to face the police officer who had spoken. Mon Mothma was shaking her head and General Rieekan's hands were in tight fists at his sides. The policeman was tall and broad shouldered, and he had taken a step farther into the room than either of the officers had come up until now.

"Sergeant," the other officer, a middle-aged woman with short red hair and moist eyes, chided him. She stepped between her partner and the others, stopping him from coming another step closer to Han and Lando.

"What? We've waited here long enough, Lieutenant. I…." the Sergeant defended. Both his Lieutenant and Mon Mothma held up a hand to stop him from continuing.

"The hell is this?" Han demanded an explanation. Mon Mothma turned to face him. She looked crestfallen, afraid, and as close to angry as Han had ever seen her.

"The Inner Council has met and agreed to allow the local authorities here on Coruscant to handle the investigation," she shared. Han noticed how carefully she'd said "Coruscant"; Mon Mothma wouldn't even refer to this part of town as "Imperial Center". "We will be conducting our own parallel investigation," she added. Han didn't understand where she was going with this.

"You're not being placed under arrest," the female Lieutenant said to Han, stepping closer still. Arrest? "But you are to be confined to your quarters until further notice."

"What the…?" Han couldn't fathom what was going on. Why wouldn't they just let him see Leia?

"As you know," Mon Mothma said to Han, placing her hand on his arm, "there was no working surveillance in the ballroom at the time of the attack." Han nodded. There weren't supposed to have been any weapons, either—so he wasn't sure how much of that story he believed. But if Mon Mothma said so, it was probably the truth. "We're gathering the recordings from all of the NewsNet cameras," she explained, "and for the time being, everyone who is known to have been within arm's reach of Councilor Organa at the time of the attack is considered a suspect."

"Suspect?" Han couldn't believe his ears. They couldn't be serious.

"Suspect?" Lando echoed, his own incredulity almost outdoing Han's. Chewie yowled a similar sentiment.

"It's just a precaution," Mon Mothma assured them, trying obviously to keep the tempers in the room from flaring any further. She looked into Han's eyes; he could tell it was taking every bit of her resolve to remain so collected. Still, he had no patience to deal with this right now.

"I don't care what it is," Han bellowed. Chewie growled in protest as well.

"Han," Mon Mothma addressed him firmly, tightening her grip on his arm and maintaining eye contact. He started at that; the Chief Councilor had never called him by his first name before. "What would Leia want you to do?" she asked. That wasn't fair. "She would insist that we cooperate with the authorities," she answered her own question, her gaze never wavering in the slightest. "Leia would be the last one to want an exception made for her own benefit." That was true. Leia was a republican, an egalitarian. She would never accept special treatment and, were it in her power to do so she would insist that those closest to her do the same. But that fact didn't make Han any happier.

"Yeah," he allowed softly, hanging his head as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"And if I understood correctly," she turned to the Alderaanian medic, looking to him for confirmation, "Councilor Organa will remain under sedation for the next few days at least." The white-haired boy nodded.

"Yes ma'am," he affirmed. Mon Mothma nodded and turned back to Han.

"Go with them tonight," she urged him. "Get some sleep if you can. Let us do what we can to get this cleared up quickly so that you can be here when she wakes up." Han nodded.

"Yeah," he conceded, looking again toward the door to the surgical suite.

"Lieutenant," Mon Mothma addressed the red-haired woman, her hand still on Han's arm, "is there a back door to this building?" she asked. "I'd hate for General Solo to have to face all of those reporters at a time like this."

"Of course," the Lieutenant answered, nodding her head. She looked at Han apologetically. He guessed that it was only at her insistence that the Sergeant hadn't hauled him out of here hours ago. "General," she indicated the door behind her. Clearly he wasn't going to be allowed to hang around here much longer. Chewie yowled and moved in behind Han.

"Stay here, Chewie," he instructed his hairy friend.

"We'll stick around," Lando assured him. "We'll let you know if anything changes." Han nodded his head. He was going to have to deal with this. Mon Mothma wasn't giving him a way out. And she had been right; were Leia in a condition to express an opinion, she would insist upon his compliance.

"Yeah," Han allowed, "Okay." He glanced again at the misty eyed Alderaanian medic. "I know you'll take good care of her," he encouraged. It was a small comfort to him to know that Leia's treatment was at least partly in the hands of this person who so obviously cared about her. The young man blotted at his leaking eyes again and sniffed.

"Yes sir," he answered, nodding his head. "We will."

"All right," Han said back, turning to the Lieutenant again. "Let's go."


	5. Chapter 5

It was cold in here. Too cold. Too cold and too bright; even through closed eyes it was too bright. There was a hissing sound, a drip, a beep, another. An alarm.

Pain. Intense pain.

Leia was slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. This was a hospital. Everything around her was white. She opened her eyes, but they wouldn't focus. It was too bright. Everything was the same color. It hurt to breathe.

Dancing? Wasn't she dancing? Dancing. Yes. Then…?

Pain.

Bleeding.

Her mind started to piece together how she came to be here. Someone had hurt her at the banquet. How long had she been out? And what about the Summit? And what about…?

"Han?" she could barely hear her own voice as she tried to call out. Was anyone there? Leia swallowed hard, her throat was dry; she wasn't sure she could make a sound. "Luke?" she called to her brother, as much with her mind as with what little voice she could muster. Leia tried to turn her head to look around, but she knew immediately there were drugs in her system keeping her from being able to move.

"Lie still, Senator," she heard a pleasant, female voice call to her from somewhere in the brightness around her. Her eyes closed again, avoiding the discomfort of the intense light. "Here," the voice said. Almost immediately, Leia felt the pain in her abdomen decreasing. She had just enough brain power to process that someone had given her dose of something. Probably something powerful.

But she was in a hospital. Someone was caring for her.

"Han?" she whispered again. Where was he? Was he okay? "Where?" she managed to ask.

"Not to worry," the woman's voice said back to her. "Just rest now."

Leia took in a deep breath as she was overcome by the narcotic she'd just been given. She couldn't help but to do as she'd been told.

When she came to again, Leia knew immediately that she was someplace different. The bed beneath her was softer, and it was big. Her right hand could reach as far as she was able and find only more mattress. And this place was dimly lit, a pleasant contrast to the intrusive brightness from before. There were no alarms in here, no hisses, no beeps and no smell of disinfectant. She had a pillow beneath her head and a soft blanket covering her legs. Slowly, Leia let her eyes come open. Her eyelids were still heavy; she felt groggy, drugged, and exhausted. She wasn't sure of much at the moment, but she knew she wasn't where she was supposed to be.

She was not elsewhere in the Imperial Medcenter. It was likely she wasn't in any medcenter at all. This room was smallish, painted gray, with dark carpet on the floor and upholstered chairs at the far end of the bed flanking an old-style HoloNet receiver. There was a door on either side of the bed, and what looked like a repulsor chair parked adjacent to the one to her left. This room had no visible windows. Maybe behind the bed…? Leia couldn't turn her head enough to see.

The air in here was moist; Leia's throat wasn't nearly as dry as it had been. She could feel herself wanting to become afraid. She was wounded and hurting and someplace unfamiliar—someplace that almost certainly wasn't a hospital. There was still a catheter port in her left arm, connected to a tube that she could see extending past her arm and toward the headboard. There was some sort of monitor to her immediate left and she started trying to make sense of the readouts on it. She figured it was likely connected to the metallic sensor covering the port in her arm. But she didn't know what any of the readings meant, and she had no idea how it all worked.

It occurred to Leia that she ought to try to get up. She should at least survey her surroundings. Even though there was very little chance for immediate escape, the more she knew about this place the better a position she would be in to get away should the chance arise. She could move now, better than before anyway. The paralytic she'd been given had all but completely worn off, but she was still in a lot of pain. It took all she had to swing her legs over the side of the bed. A beeping alarm sounded as her bare feet found the floor, and Leia was afraid she would pass out from the pain she was in. She could feel sweat beading up on her forehead and upper lip but she was determined not to give up. She'd survived pain like this on the Death Star, she could survive this moment.

If whoever had brought her to this place had done so for nefarious purposes, then she could not risk doing less than everything to free herself from their custody. She would get out of here, or die trying. Leia realized as she tried and failed to sit up that the latter was a real possibility.

Using her hands against the mattress for leverage, Leia finally managed to sit up on the edge of the bed. She was gasping for breath before she could even try to get to her feet. Leia heard the door behind her opening up but couldn't seem to turn her head.

"Senator!" a woman's voice cried out to. Leia recognized it as the same voice that had been with her in the medcenter. The woman dashed across the small bedroom and knelt in front of Leia. "Please, Senator Organa," she implored. "You need to lie back down." The woman was human, in her late sixties maybe, with graying brown hair, a careworn face and eyes as kind as any Leia had ever seen. Somehow she trusted her. Maybe it was just that nobody had called her 'Senator Organa' in a very long time, but the vibe that Leia was getting was one of kindness. She was aware that it was odd behavior for her to feel immediate trust for someone, particularly in this situation, but something in her told her that this woman was here to help.

Luke had spoken to her many times about trusting the feelings she got for people. He said that her instincts were a function of her Force sensitivity and that learning to trust them, even when they went against what her rational brain might tell her, was the first step on the path to becoming a Jedi. Leia wasn't sure that she even wanted to take that path; her genetic history being enough to frighten her away from the quest for that kind of power. But at the moment she had very little resource open to her, and the feeling that she should trust this woman, that she was on Leia's side, was almost overwhelming.

"Where am I?" Leia asked, not moving from her seated position.

"I'll tell you," the woman answered, her voice sounding harried as her gaze darted back and forth between Leia and the medical display. "I'll tell you everything you want to know. Just please lie down." Leia took a deep breath and looked back at her. She nodded her head and turned again to try and pull her feet back up onto the bed. The woman took hold of Leia's ankles and lifted them back onto the mattress. She stood up and pulled the covers up over the princess's feet and then reached across and pulled the second pillow from the other side of the bed on top of Leia's. She supported Leia's head and back as she helped her to lie down.

"Thank you," Leia said to her.

"You're welcome," she answered. "Don't try that again," she instructed. "We're not as well equipped here as in the medcenter. If your wounds start to bleed again we could be in trouble. We bandaged you up as best we could before getting you out of there, but clean dressings are in short supply at the moment." Leia frowned but nodded her head. To be honest, she had no intention of trying that again; it hurt too much.

"Where are we?" Leia reiterated a version of her earlier question. "And who are you? Why am I here?"

"All in time," the woman answered, seating herself carefully on the edge of the bed. "My name is Lusiil Be'Ki," she shared. "I represent what is left of an organization known simply as: The Quiet."

"The Quiet?" Leia asked; not an organization that she had ever heard of.

"We were formed nearly a thousand years ago, by the Jedi council— at the time of the founding of the Old Galactic Republic, and swore an allegiance to both," she explained, smoothing the blanket over Leia's legs. "We learn things. We accomplish on behalf of the Republic those things that are best left to beings with no sensitivity to the Force. Deceit, subterfuge, certain acts of violence or intrigue; we who are so mundane cannot slip to the dark side." Leia nodded. That made sense; sort of. It scared the daylights out of her, but it made some sense. Still she had no idea what that had to do with her.

"I have never heard of such an organization," Leia informed her.

"You have heard of the Bothan spy net, have you not?" Lusiil asked. Leia nodded a little.

"I have," she affirmed.

"A powerful impediment to their efficacy," the other woman replied imperiously.

Leia was taken aback; The Bothan spy net was revered as the greatest in the Galaxy far superior to what Imperial Intelligence forces had ever managed to be.

"You knew of their existence," Lusiil added, "and thus they are limited."

"They were a great help to us," Leia said to her.

"They could afford to be," Lusiil commented. "There was enough known about them under the Empire that they had nothing to lose by openly aiding the Rebellion. We were not so transparent."

"You were nowhere," Leia countered. "We struggled under tyranny for more than two decades and you who claim to be a an ally of the Republic were nowhere." Leia felt a fire in herself just then. Perhaps this was a conversation best left for a time when she was no longer in danger of bleeding to death.

"When we heard of the Jedi purge we went underground," Lusiil answered her.

"You could have served the cause from hiding," Leia said, trying to keep her ire in check, "but you never aided the Alliance. You never reached out to us, never even tried to help…." Lusiil shook her head.

"We did what we could," she said, "but not enough to let the Empire know that we existed. Although our eyes and ears stayed open as they always had, we remained silent and in hiding in hopes that the Republic would someday be restored. And now it is being restored. And someone has threatened it already. The New Republic is in its infancy and already it has come under the attack of those who would see it fail. We will not sit idly by and allow that to happen."

"How many of you are there?" Leia asked her, narrowing her eyes at the idea of such an organization having existed for a thousand years, and surviving the Jedi purge, without anyone knowing of them. Perhaps this woman, well intentioned as she seemed, was having some sort of illusions of grandeur. And she found it very hard to believe that any proponent of democracy could have let the Alliance struggle for twenty plus years without rendering aid in the slightest.

"Enough," Lusiil answered vaguely. "You will only meet two," she elaborated. "Myself and an elderly gentleman named Sawyer. He is a doctor and will be checking in with us periodically. We're all spread out," she continued. "And the Coruscant cell is the smallest of all. It wouldn't have done us much good to operate overtly under the nose of Palpatine. We are everywhere. But we are quiet. And we will do as we have always done and quietly discover who is behind this attack on the New Republic."

"And that's why I'm here?" Leia asked. She was intrigued. She was in enough pain to make wakefulness wholly unpleasant, but she wanted to hear this. Her feelings were still telling her that Lusiil wasn't lying to her. At the very least she believed that what she was telling Leia was the truth. "To help you uncover who is attacking the Republic?"

"No," Lusiil said to her. She tucked the blankets tightly around Leia's shoulders, careful not to pass them too roughly over the wounds in her middle. "You are here to recover," she said. "You are here to be safe from everyone and everything until you are well. And in the mean time we will do what we do. We will get to the root of what has happened. You will lie still and get well."

"I can't stay here. I have a job to do," Leia asserted, straining a little against the tightly tucked covers around her shoulders before the pain made her give up. "The Summit…."

"Your only job for the time being," Lusiil told her, "is to get well." She reached over to a panel built in to the little table adjacent to the near side of Leia's bed. She poked at it once and the HoloNet receiver at the far end of the room sprung to life. "We don't need this in 3-D," she commented, prodding the panel until the holoprojector switched off, leaving the Sullustan anchorwoman's face flat on a little screen.

"Sad news today from here on Coruscant," the reporter's even and unwavering voice began, "Former Imperial Senator and member of the New Republic Provisional Council: Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan has died. Councilor Organa succumbed this morning to the injuries she sustained last week at the hands of an as yet unknown assailant. Officials at Imperial Medcenter confirmed for us, just an hour ago, news of Councilor Organa's passing at eleven minutes past eight this morning. The victim of an assassin's blade during the welcome banquet attached to this week's Charter Summit, the Councilor was taken from the ballroom to the Imperial Medcenter, where she was thought to be recovering nicely. Princess Leia, the last surviving member of the Royal Alderaanian House of Organa, was just shy of her twenty-fifth birthday. The New Republic Provisional Council is expected to release a statement later today. No plans for a memorial service have been announced. We will release details on the hunt for her killer, and what, if any, effect this tragic turn of events will have on the Charter Summit as they become available."

"I don't understand?" Leia said to Lusiil.

"They won't show their hand unless they think they've been successful," Lusiil explained. "So we made them think they were."

"How?" Leia's mind was a fog. How do you go about convincing an entire galaxy that a government official had been assassinated?

"A human replica droid," Lusiil answered plainly. "You've heard of them of course…?"

"I have," Leia answered, nodding as best she could with her head on the pillow. She did have some experience with a human replica droid. Guri, the servant and assassin belonging to the lecherous Prince Xizor, had seemed lifelike enough; but could a droid really be created as a double for a public official? That opened up an entire new realm of very creepy possibility as far as Leia was concerned.

"We didn't have a whole lot of time," Lusiil explained, "she's not perfect. But she'll do in a casket." Leia was frowning. She still had a million questions, but she couldn't manage to bring one of them to her lips. The tumult in her brain, coupled with a bone-level exhaustion most likely brought on by a combination of drugs and her recent exertion had her addled. Leia hated this feeling. She took a deep breath and tried to collect her thoughts.

"And Mon Mothma ordered…" She finally managed to get out. Leia was trying to make sense of what was happening. The New Republic at large figured her for dead. And that had been done to smoke out the person who had attempted to kill her for real. On whose authority exactly had this been done?

"No," Lusiil answered. "No, we've told no one," she affirmed.

"No one?" Leia asked. She was even more confused. They were operating without legal sanction. This was not good. But at the same time, it was a little piece of genius. Leia figured that she had no recourse but to go along with it for the time being. It wasn't like she'd get very far if she tried to get away; she had proven that to herself already.

"We couldn't have anybody acting as though something wasn't as wrong as we said it was," Lusiil said back to her. "Not even the Chief Councilor. Someone might catch on, someone to whom it would matter— especially if that someone is standing close to the person who we told at the wrong moment. And even furthermore: if someone were to be trustworthy enough to be told, and we were sure that whoever it was could put on the right outward display, there's still no safe way for anybody to know. We don't know who was behind this. Some species have a mild degree of innate telepathy. And there are no chemical scanners working on this whole planet right now so there's no way to know if someone's snuffing spice."

"No," Leia exhorted. Surely no delegates at this Summit were going to be doping themselves on Glitterstim to try and gain some diplomatic advantage. "Not these people," she defended. "They're republicans. They've come to ratify The Charter. We're all here to do this work together."

"You're wrong," Lusiil informed her. "You are a republican, Senator. The rest of the Provisional Council: they're republicans. And most of the delegates that have come to Coruscant at your invitation are likely republicans. But the people who did this to you are not republicans. They care charlatans and liars. They are here to tear down the Republic before it has had a chance to rise. They are not here to obey the laws and to cooperate for a greater good. If they were, they would not have put a pair of holes in your torso while you were trying to have a dance." Lusiil seemed suddenly a little bit angry. She stood abruptly from the bed, jostling Leia just enough to cause her to gasp at the shot of pain that came with it.

Lusiil was walking away, toward the door through whence she had come. Leia tried to call after her, but the HNN reporter had now launched into a mostly-accurate montage of the life of Princess Leia and she couldn't make her voice sound over the volume. Lusiil stopped as the door came open and turned back toward Leia. "If you can reach that purplish light on the end of the sensor pad attached your left arm it'll give you a bump of the pain medication," she told her bluntly as she passed out of the room. "Try and get some rest."


	6. Chapter 6

At first, Han had never been so grateful for a bottle of liquor in his whole life. But now that the liquor was gone, he realized the damned thing was good for nothing. Its entire contents hadn't done the job of numbing his pain and the empty bottle had failed him just as surely. One throw and the glass had shattered into a million pieces all over the floor of his quarters. And that wasn't even the worst of the mess.

The wall opposite the sofa now sported scorch marks from where he had taken out his blaster and tried to literally shoot the messenger.

Thad damnable woman from HNN had just announced the fruition of his most horrible nightmares, and he wanted to make it go away. But it wouldn't go away. The first shot he had fired at the holoprojector had accidentally damaged the switches and now he couldn't turn the kriffing thing off. He couldn't even change the channel; not that it would matter. The news had pre-empted everything.

Leia was gone.

Dead.

His beautiful princess, his angel, his light and his life had been taken from him in an act of violence that he had been inches away from. And he couldn't stop it. And he couldn't help her. He had been _right there_ when it happened, and he hadn't been able to do a blasted thing for her.

Someone had murdered his beloved while she was dancing in his arms. He had been holding her and he wasn't able to keep her from harm. And he could never tell her he was sorry. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd told her he loved her.

Han heard the door coming open and, with a shaky hand, he brought his blaster to bear on the portal. None of those damnable Coruscant Security Force officers were going to come in here and take this weapon from him. They had searched his quarters the night of the attack and had taken every weapon they had found. But Han Solo was once the swiftest smuggler in the history of the galaxy and he still knew a thing or three—there were plenty of weapons left in his small apartment, and he wasn't giving a single one of them up. No one was ever going to take anything else from him. He sat on the edge of his plain gray couch and waited to see who was coming in to intrude on his moment of utmost despair.

The door swished open to reveal Mon Mothma standing in the hallway. The police officers were gone from outside his door and she stood there, alone, framed in the narrow passageway. Han lowered his weapon and dropped his head. Mon Mothma stepped into the room, allowing the door to shut behind her. She turned her head to the HoloNews display and took a deep breath.

"I had hoped to get to you before this did," she shared, walking to the control panel and managing to mute the sound.

"Interrupted the smashball match," he said.

"You shouldn't have had to hear it like this," she consoled, coming further into the room and taking a seat in a chair near the sofa.

"Shouldn't have heard it at all," he growled. "Shouldn't have happened." Han looked over at his guest as he set his blaster down on the floor at his feet. Her eyes were moist and she held her hands clasped firmly in her lap. She was making one hell of an effort not to break down. He would try his best to do the same. Mon Mothma nodded.

"It is tragic," she allowed, her lower lip beginning to quiver. "And I do hate that you got the news over the HoloNet." Han shrugged.

"What about Luke?" he asked. It had been almost a week since the ball where Leia was attacked and still they'd had no word from her brother.

"We've sent a priority message," she answered, "through Hapes itself. The Hapans will be able to reach him on Terephon." Han nodded. Good; at least someone had thought of it. "We're planning a public memorial for the middle of next week," she added. "But we will save any final arrangements for Commander Skywalker and the Alderaanian Council to determine upon the Commander's return." Han nodded again

He wasn't sure if he felt slighted by the idea that he wasn't to be included in the planning of Leia's funeral or relieved by it. He certainly did not want to have to think about the fact that she was gone, much less attend to the details. But at the same time, he felt as though it was his right to be a party to it. He knew Leia better than anyone— save perhaps Luke— and he would certainly have a better idea as to what she might want under the circumstances than the Alderaanian Council.

"Yeah," Han sighed, "we never talked about funerals," he shared, as though an allusion to the fact that she might have wanted his opinion as to the ceremonies.

"We're also beginning to plan for a more permanent memorial," she told him. "If you have any suggestions as to where Leia might have liked to see her statue erected…"

"Statue," Han sighed, shaking his head. He ran his hands through his hair. "You're going to have to make it ten meters tall," he said. "Life size won't be big enough to show people the size of her heart." Han sniffled. He hated this. "But I have no idea where she'd want it put," he added. "It wasn't something that she liked to dwell on. We were at war and it was always there in the back of your mind that you might not come back, but we just never let ourselves think about it. Even when she was getting ready to speak at the service after the battle of Endor… It wasn't a pleasant subject, so we never really talked about it. Hell," he added, shaking his head, "I could barely get her to talk about a wedding." He shrugged his shoulders and looked up at Mon Mothma. "I was going to marry her, you know?" he added, trying not to let tears escape his eyes.

"She'd have made a beautiful bride," Mon Mothma answered. Han nodded his head. It was his favorite fantasy; picturing Leia in a billowing white Alderaanian wedding gown vowing to join her life to his forever.

"If I could have talked her into it," he added, recalling her seeming unwillingness to discuss marriage on the night of the ball.

"I have no doubts as to that," she said back, smiling warmly toward him. Han nodded his head. Maybe Mon Mothma was just saying that to try to make him feel better, but he had to appreciate the sentiment just the same. He felt a tear fall onto his cheek, and then another. Dropping his chin to his chest, he let out a sob that he had been fighting all morning. He cried like that for a minute or more before looking up again at the somber face of his visitor.

"The police are gone," he thought to say, gesturing toward the door.

"I convinced them that leaving their post for long enough to investigate a suspicious noise at the far end of the corridor would do them well," Mon Mothma said back to him. "I know you're not allowed visitors," she explained, "and I didn't want them to shirk their orders, but I could not bear the thought of you receiving this news alone."

"You're the one who said that Leia would want us to obey the law," he reminded her. Had she not pressed that issue on the night of the ball, then Han might not be here right now. He might have been there to urge Leia to keep fighting, or at least to hold her hand at the end.

"I think that she'd forgive us this small exception," Mon Mothma said back to him, her eyes beginning to glisten and her voice on the verge of a break.

"I should have taken any exception," Han asserted. "I should have been there."

"She never woke up, Han," Mon Mothma told him quietly. There she went, using his first name again. "She never opened her eyes." She reached out her hand and placed it on top of his. "The last thing she was ever aware of was that you were beside her." Han looked up at her. She was trying to console him; and she was telling the truth. That didn't make the reality of this situation any more bearable.

"I was right there and I couldn't do a thing to stop it and what's more- I'm a suspect!" Han spat. Mon Mothma sighed.

"Only to the local authorities," she assured him. "You were never really considered a suspect by the New Republic. The Coruscant Security Force considers everyone who was within a meter of Leia at the time of the attack a suspect. Delegates have been coming to Session with armed escorts. It's madness; exactly the kind of thing Leia would have hated. That sort of mistrust among allies is just what we were trying to avoid." Han nodded again. Leia would hate that. She hated everything that smacked of distrust or went against the spirit of openness and cooperation. Maybe if she'd been a little more suspicious of people she wouldn't have walked into a ballroom full of strangers that didn't have a blasted working scanner on it and she'd be here now to hate it some more.

"Yeah," he managed to agree out loud.

"You will be allowed to attend the memorial service," she continued. "Also with an escort," she clarified, "unless they get on with clearing your name in the next five days. But you will have seats reserved for yourself and Chewbacca on the reviewing stand for the procession and in the private box at the venue. We'll be using the Coruscant Opera House for the service. It's really for the public, you know," she added. "Leia was so loved by everyone." Han felt his breath catch in his chest. People did love her; most of the galaxy in one way or another. She had every quality that a person could admire in another. "But we are making an effort to privately accommodate those who were close to her. For those who loved her the way her friends loved her; the way that you loved her," Mon Mothma added, emphasis on the fact that she knew of his feelings toward Leia, "that's all different. People who knew her well deserve a chance to mourn without throngs of onlookers. But at the same time, you deserve to remember just how many lives she touched."

"How is the Summit going?" he asked, trying to get his mind away from the mental picture of an opera house full of strangers crying for his beloved.

"As well as can be expected under the circumstances," Mon Mothma answered him. "We will ratify The Charter. The Senate will open on time."

"That's good," Han replied. Leia's handwriting was on that document. She believed in the New Republic Common Charter and everything it stood for. Seeing it ratified had been a dream of Leia's since before it had ever been written. The greatest tribute to her memory would be the ratification and implementation of the Charter and the opening of the First Senate.

"It's taking longer than we had planned for," Mon Mothma shared. "Every morning one delegation or another has taken it upon themselves to introduce a resolution wishing Leia well and the supporting discussion takes up more than an hour. Eventually someone who knows Leia, and is aware she would scoff at such a use of valuable time, will call for a vote. The resolution inevitably passes with no dissent and then we can get on with the business of forming a functional government. If resolutions I memoriam begin cropping up, we may need to extend the Summit."

"Politicians," Han exhorted, shaking his head. Leia would think that even a single resolution wishing her good health was a colossal waste of time. She had legendary patience, but did not enjoy having to tolerate anything that held up the business of governing; even well wishes toward herself. She didn't even let him kiss her too long in the morning for fear she would be late for work. If Han had wanted Leia's attention before breakfast he'd had to get up early. She wouldn't have liked these delays in the slightest.

"Indeed," Mon Mothma said back to him, managing a sad smile. It was clear to Han that she was displeased with the delay in the proceedings and perhaps a little relieved to have someone to share that fact with. "Speaking of which," she added, standing from her chair, "I must get back. We've suspended Summit business for the day, but I've a meeting with the Inner Council. Take care of yourself," she wished him before turning to leave the room.

"A park," the thought hit Han and came directly out of his mouth. Mon Mothma turned and cocked her head toward him.

"Pardon?" she responded.

"Leia wouldn't want a statue," he informed the Chief Councilor. "She'd want a park. A little park with grass and flowers in it; maybe stuff that grew on Alderaan, if there's any of it left anyplace. A place with the sky above and not the spires of buildings; with the New Republic Flag flying with a light on it so you could even see it in the dark, and chairs where parents could sit and watch their children play on a free Coruscant: that's what Leia would want." Mon Mothma nodded her head.

"You are, of course, quite right about that," she told him. "I shall share that suggestion with the Council." Han nodded. They'd never discussed it, but somehow he had known that. He knew Leia and he knew how she would like to be memorialized permanently. She had rolled her eyes at statues of Palpatine on more than one of the Core Worlds and something in him balked at the idea of some giant stone artifice depicting Leia. Somehow a park was infinitely more appropriate. "Please feel free to call on me if there is anything you need," she added before turning again to leave.

There was only one thing Han needed right now; and no one could get her for him.


	7. Chapter 7

Leia had lost count of the days. Three? Five? There was no regular schedule; no chronometers to tell her when was when. And this place had no windows; it was impossible even to tell whether it was day or night. As someone who had spent her life accustomed to a fixed agenda, Leia felt as though she were somehow lost in this place.

Lusiil came and went often; more coming than going, really. She was here most of the time; her eating and sleeping schedule the one thing that gave Leia any indication of what part of the day it might be. Leia had only seen the elusive Dr. Sawyer once, but she was sure that he had been by numerous times, evidenced by replenished bags of the various intravenous solutions, none of which she had yet bothered to inquire about.

The Charter Summit was being broadcast live on Channel 11; except for the sessions that were blacked out for some intelligence reason or another. Sometimes they would show highlights on HNN, and sometimes they wouldn't. Leia was trying her best stay awake and follow the progress of the Summit, but she wasn't always successful. And some days there was no business at all. The Summit had been delayed for two days to step up security after the attack, and again the day that Leia's death had been announced, and the day after that out of respect for the dead. On the days when business was being conducted, the Summit was moving slower than Leia would have liked it to. She tried to take comfort in the fact that at least no one had stormed out in a huff. Sad people were quiet people, so it seemed. It appeared as though dying wasn't the worst thing Councilor Organa could have done to keep the peace in the Assembly.

She had taken to watching holodramas to fill the time when she was awake and the news was quiet. Leia had never been a fan of the HoloNet as a form of entertainment, but it did beat total boredom. _Ryloth Place_ wasn't half bad, actually. The plot was easy enough to follow and the actors were quite good. And it was on a lot, usually several episodes in a row. But the best part about the program was that it was in Twi'leki. Leia spoke a little Twi'leki and she enjoyed giving her brain some exercise even as her body was lying still.

But she was getting better, she was sure of it. She could sit up now, for long stretches if she had something to lean against, and even stand for very short ones. She had learned to use the repulsor chair and now spent as much of her day as Lusiil would let her in the main room. There was something about spending all day in bed that bothered Leia. The problem seemed to be that Lusiil disapproved of Leia's spending much time disconnected from the equipment that provided her IV medications.

It was likely that Leia felt so strangely about the passage of time largely due to the number of hours she spent asleep. The powerful narcotic she was being given for pain kept her out of it a lot of the time. She had all but ceased giving herself the booster dose that she was allowed, but otherwise she was at the mercy of the sensor in her arm as to how drugged she was going to be.

Although she hadn't cared to know much about the medications themselves, she'd been curious enough to ask about the delivery initial guess as to how it might work had been mostly correct. The metal sensor port on her arm was connected to the catheter in her arm. It measured her temperature, blood pressure, and blood gases as well as the current levels of each drug it was responsible for dispensing into her blood stream. Its readings were then transmitted to the processing and display unit Leia had seen next to her bed. That processor cross referenced the sensor data in real time with its own databanks on the normal range for humans of her size and then gave the orders to the dispenser—a metallic unit connected to six or more bags of intravenous solution— which combined into the single tube the appropriate proportions of each. The result of which was an ever-changing IV cocktail that responded to whatever was going on with Leia at the moment.

Much to Lusiil's chagrin, Leia had learned to disconnect the tube in her arm from the one extending from the dispenser. She had a hard time hooking it back up, though; a task that Lusiil inevitably set to as soon as she could coax Leia back in to the bedroom. The drip made Leia's brain foggy at times, but its ability to sense when she was in pain made her glad for its existence even when she maligned the need for its comfort.

It was a clever and wieldy setup, and not one that Leia had ever seen before. When she had asked Lusiil where it had come from, she had proudly answered, "We stole it from the Empire, Senator." Lusiil always called her 'Senator'. Leia appreciated that. And she also appreciated how proud Lusiil was of everything she had ever done to slight the Emperor or the Empire at large. She didn't talk much about The Quiet, but the little she let on about was enough to make Leia want to know more.

Leia had to admit that, other than the occasional nagging as to her recovery, Lusiil was good company. Mostly they sipped tea and followed the Charter Summit on channel 11. Leia was pleased that the HoloNet was broadcasting so much of it live; glad that she could at least be there as a witness, if not a facilitator. And Lusiil seemed to genuinely enjoy listening to her patient describe the finer points of parliamentary procedure. Leia even went so far as to regale her with some of the more humorous stories around the creation of the New Republic Common Charter. Listening in on the business of ratifying a constitution she had helped to author was strange, and Leia sometimes felt like a smashball commentator describing the political posturing and procedural jockeying that went on in the Senate Chamber.

And she wished she was there. Every day she wished she was there. Mon Mothma was doing an admirable job in conducting Summit business, Leia had known that she would. But there was something about seeing the empty chair to Mon Mothma's right that she knew had been reserved for her that left Leia a little sad.

Even that empty chair, though, was no match for the evocative power of today's HoloNet broadcast. Leia sat with Lusiil in the main room of 'the bunker' as she had come to mentally refer to it, watching her own funeral. It was surreal.

"This is the first of three," Lusiil had informed her as the festivities had begun. "The first and third- that one will be held the day before the Senate opens- are open to the public. The second one," she added, "will be a private Jedi funeral with a proper cremation." Lusiil always said the word 'Jedi' with such reverence. Leia had to wonder how many of her companion's friends and colleagues had been lost due to Order 66 and the ensuing purge. But she dared not ask.

Today the people of Coruscant lined the stone streets to view the transparisteel casket in which was lain what they thought to be the body of Councilor Leia Organa. The surface streets were normally used exclusively for pedestrian traffic, and with throngs of onlookers crowding each other on both sides, the police were scarcely able to keep a path open wide enough for the hearse. A freshly-stitched-for-the-occasion flag of the New Republic was draped over the foot of the casket and it fluttered gently in the breeze as the hearse passed slowly through the streets; occasionally someone would reach through the perimeter to touch it. There were a few police hovercars a dozen meters above the procession, but other than that the usually bustling Coruscant skies were devoid of activity.

There had been some narration during the lengthy processional, but Leia had scarcely paid any attention. She knew what she had done in her life; she knew the names of the people who had planned the memorial. She even knew the origin of the bust of herself that was omnipresent in the upper left-hand corner of the image. There was no need for her to listen to the sniffling and tear-filled exposition of the commentator, a person Leia had never met. She wondered just how many of these teary people she'd had occasion to meet and how many of them knew her only by reputation.

The commentators may have been strangers to her, but she recognized a few of the people along the route. Her favorite dressmaker from the days of her Senate service— the one who made the blue dress she'd worn to the welcome banquet—was there with her three very young grandchildren. Leia hadn't known she was still on Coruscant; she would have to have more dresses made once this had all blown over. Her former florist, Spero, was easily spotted in the crowd; his three-meter-tall Ho'din frame stood out above the mostly human crowd. He appeared to be standing with his entire family— tears in all of their eyes.

And she recognized a few of her former Senate colleagues who had not been Summit delegates; those who had retired from public life during the days of the Empire and had found themselves too old or too jaded to return to politics in the new era.

"There are too many flowers," Leia told Lusiil. She preferred living plants to cut flowers; the people close to her knew that. "I wonder who was in charge."

"Everything by committee," Lusiil answered, coming toward her from the tiny kitchen nook with cups of tea in her hand. She passed one over to Leia and then settled herself on the couch just adjacent to where Leia had parked the repulsor chair. Leia thanked her for the tea and took a sip.

"As disturbing as this whole spectacle is," Leia began, turning her head away from the holo to look at Lusiil, "It's taught me something."

"And what's that, Senator?" Lusiil asked, sipping at her teacup.

"That I should leave explicit instructions with my protocol droid before this happens for real," Leia replied with a half-smile. "I hate the flowers," she declared, "I would not have chosen this music. In fact: I would forego the music entirely. There is no need for the hearse to be preceded by a band. It's like a macabre parade."

"People need the pomp and circumstance," Lusiil answered. "You are an adored public figure, Senator, The people of the New Republic want memories of your funeral to tell their great-grandchildren about."

Leia shook her head, but she knew that Lusiil was right. A funeral wasn't for the deceased; he or she wasn't normally there to see it. A funeral was for the mourners; the larger the number of mourners, the larger the spectacle. Leia turned her head back to the holo display just in time for the cameras to fall on the first reviewing stand.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she watched her colleagues watch the casket rolling past them. The members of the Provisional Council sat stiffly, red-eyed and silent. Threkin Horm and Cal Omas held their hands clasped at their waists with their heads bowed and their eyes downcast. Admiral Ackbar's chin was quivering. Only Mon Mothma seemed to be holding herself together. But Leia had expected that.

Mon Mothma had taken Leia under her wing at a very young age. She had groomed the young princess for her eventual place in the Senate and subsequently in the Alliance and the New Republic. Leia knew she was holding herself together for the sake of the people she was to lead. Mon Mothma kept her own council mostly, and would shed her tears privately in her own time.

The cameras then shifted to the second reviewing stand. This was where Leia's closest personal friends were seated. She almost couldn't watch. Luke was still somewhere between here and Terephon; so she would be spared a look of grief from him. But the pain on the faces of her nearest and dearest was almost too much to bear. A howling Chewie stood in the back with an arm around a very angry-looking Lando Calrissian, who was holding the hand of Leia's oldest friend from Alderaan, Winter, who appeared completely inconsolable. Threepio was staring at the floor, the lights of his eyes barely shining and his shiny gold frame looking dim as it reflected the gray and amber carpet of the reviewing stand. General Rieekan sobbed openly. Leia searched the small group for the one person whose face she had most dreaded looking into.

She couldn't find him.

"Han's not there," Leia whispered, her eyes filling up and spilling over with tears. She couldn't believe it. She turned her weepy face toward Lusiil and repeated herself. "Han's not there."

"You are referring to General Solo?" Lusiil asked her. Leia nodded, causing another tear to fall from her eye onto her cheek. "As a suspect he would have required an escort, but he should have been allowed to attend."

"Suspect?" Leia asked, almost choking on a sip of her tea. Lusiil rolled her eyes and nodded.

"The Coruscant Security Force has control of the investigation," she explained to Leia. "Everyone who was within a meter of you when you were attacked was considered a suspect initially. They've since cleared several of the Summit delegates: those who were outside the reach of their species to have gotten to you with a weapon it was physically possible for them to have concealed. But General Solo was the closest person to you, so he has not been exonerated as yet."

"They think Han could have done this to me?" Leia asked, incredulously.

"He is the prime suspect at the moment," Lusiil answered with a frown.

"That's preposterous," Leia insisted.

"Yes," Lusiil agreed, nodding. "It is preposterous. But the problem is that there were no surveillance units in the ballroom when you were attacked. The only images the authorities have are those that were taken by the HoloNet cameras covering the event for the news and the tabvids. The authorities have confiscated all the recordings, but they're taking their time about getting through it. They started with those people farther from you and are working their way in. Until they come to the logical realization that General Solo had nothing to do with the attack he will be confined to his quarters with a guard on the door and no visitors allowed."

"Oh that poor man," Leia whispered to herself, her hand coming to cover her mouth, which was hanging open without her control.

"Would you like to see him?" Lusiil asked. Leia leaned forward so quickly that it hurt.

"Could I?" Leia asked her, choking back a sob. "You can do that?"

"We've had all of the suspects under surveillance," Lusiil answered. "They're only allowed out for official business. If General Solo isn't at the funeral, then he has to be in his quarters. It may take me a minute to tap the wire correctly, but I should be able to show you."

"Tap the wire?" Leia asked. She knew precious little about surveillance techniques, but she had always figured they functioned via transmitter like nearly everything else.

"We're hard wired," Lusiil answered, standing from her seat. "There are some short-range transmissions, but people like to track transmissions. We wouldn't want to be stumbled upon and it's been nearly a thousand years since anyone has spent much time or effort looking for a hard-wired system." Leia nodded; she did have a point.

"That's the beauty of an organization that pre-dates the infrastructure," she observed.

"Exactly," Lusiil answered her, smiling genuinely as she began prodding at a datapad that had been jacked into a computer that Leia hadn't even noticed was installed into the end table. She frowned and shook her head. "I'm not going to be able to get it from here," she said, taking the datapad from its jack and crossing her arms over her chest. "I'll need to go up and manually switch some relays." Leia nodded.

Manually switching anything was something Leia was not accustomed to. Even the Alliance, as rag-tag as they had been at times, had no equipment she could recall that wasn't accessible via remote. She had figured out some days ago that this place must be underground; perhaps that's why the hard-wires were necessary. Leia had known for as long as she could remember that Coruscant was built as far beneath this surface as it was above, and she did have to wonder just how deep in the underground the bunker was situated. She had seen some of the subterranean labyrinth of lower Coruscant during her unfortunate dealings with Black Sun and its lascivious master, Prince Xizor. She sort of hated the idea of being beneath the city-surface again, but the rooms were comfortable enough that her only indication of this (aside from the lack of windows in the space) had been Lusiil's references to 'going up' to do things rather than 'going out'.

She thought to tell Lusiil not to bother. It was likely a taxing experience getting from wherever they were to the surface, as Lusiil always seemed to return from such outings visibly tired and occasionally winded. But her desire to see Han outweighed anything else that she could think of. And Lusiil wouldn't have offered if she wasn't willing to do it.

Leia felt suddenly very guilty; it had yet to really occur to her until the cameras fell on the reviewing stand just how awful getting word of her end must have been for Han. She needed to see him. She needed to _touch_ him, but she knew that was impossible under the current circumstances. It would have to be enough to put her eyes on him; to know that he was coping, even if not well, until the news could reach him that she had not succumbed to her injuries.

"Try to get some rest while I'm gone," Lusiil encouraged Leia as she pulled her coat on and moved toward the door. "You should get into bed," she added. "Watch the rest of the memorial in there." Leia nodded, taking a sip from her mug.

"When I finish my tea," she answered. Lusiil nodded. "And I don't need to see the rest of it," she added with a sigh. Leia had seen quite enough of her own funeral for comfort already.

"Well," Lusiil said back, "don't be too long. You shouldn't spend so much time off of the drip. You're sure you can reconnect it by yourself?" Leia nodded. She could do it if she had to.

"I'll go lie down when I need the pain killers," Leia assured the older woman, her distaste for the thought clear in her tone. As much as she wanted to say she was nearly well, she had to admit to herself that she couldn't go long without the pain killers. Lusiil shook her head.

"You're getting better," the older woman commented, "and the need for the pain medicine is growing less urgent, but the need for the IV bacta and the other medications isn't going to expire as quickly. Just because you feel all right doesn't mean you are all right. You'll need to keep mindful of that." Leia smiled and nodded.

"I appreciate your concern," she said. Lusiil smiled back at her.

"You are very welcome, Senator," Lusiil told Leia as she stood and headed toward the door. "Is there anything you'd like while I'm out?" she asked. Leia thought for a second. That was a new one. Everything she'd needed had been provided for her; Lusiil had seen to it that she had a food and water and tea, fresh bandages, a toothbrush and a bar of soap, a hairbrush (which she could not yet raise her hands to use, but looked forward to putting to use with much aplomb), clean linens, and even an electric shaver, but she had never asked Leia if she had any requests.

"A pickled hot nerf roast," Leia half-kidded. The food down here hadn't been anything like the worst in her memory, but the grains and steamed puddings that had been the mainstay over the past few days (since she'd been allowed solid food) had become a little monotonous. She felt just lousy enough to be really craving Alderaanian comfort food. Lusiil chuckled at that.

"I'll see what I can do," she replied as she manually input the code to open the door to the exterior. "Try and get some rest."


	8. Chapter 8

In patches the sheets were soaked clear through to the mattress. Han lay face down in the dampness his tears had left on his rumpled blankets. He mostly kept his eyes closed, unable to decide which view of the room was less painful to behold. Although, the images his mind brought up when his eyes were shut were no escape from the pain.

When he closed his eyes all he could see was Leia. He saw her the way she was the night of the banquet—flirting with him in that amazing dress. He saw her cuddled next to him beneath his coat in a hammock on Endor. He saw her shivering in the south passage of Echo Base on Hoth, letting him know that he would be missed, and welcomed back were he to ever return, reminding him of the death warrant that hung over her head and letting him know that she understood a piece of what he was going through in fearing for his life. He saw her face at the edge of the carbon freezing chamber on Bespin, the tears in her beautiful brown eyes as she said she loved him for the first time.

It was as though she'd been painted on the inside of his eyelids. She was there, in full relief, her eyes and her smile and her scent and her laugh; they were all there in Han's mind. If only the strength of the memory was enough to summon her back to him. But he knew it wasn't. And that crushing reality pummeled him again and again each time his eyes came open.

Despite the reality of her permanent absence, she lingered in these cramped and untidy rooms.

The HoloNet receiver was still broken, the holoprojector was still on. The now silenced images of Leia's funeral procession filled Han's sitting room in stunning detail. The cameras panned the tear-streaked faces of the crowds on Coruscant that had come to mourn for their lost leader.

Han couldn't stand it.

They had only known Leia in abstract—and yet they wept. Han studied them. There were men with quivering lips and wringing hands. Veterans in worn and ill-fitting uniforms of the Old Republic saluted the casket as it passed. Little children strained their necks from perches on their mother's or father's shoulders to get what would be their only look at the beautiful Princess Leia as her casket rolled by. Elderly women sobbed into handkerchiefs. Policemen blotted their eyes with their sleeves. A group of school age girls huddled together to cry. Mothers clung to babies. Young couples held each other. They wept openly for her: these strangers by the roadside, and Han hated their tears. He hated the loss that they felt, hated it that much more because of how much he wished they could have known what Leia was really like; what reason they truly had to cry. It was through his own fresh tears that he could see their faces, projected by the merciless holonet receiver in the other room.

In the corner of the scene there was projected a holo of Leia herself, the new favored image of HNN and others. And Han knew it by heart. It was an image that had been captured on the way into the ballroom that fateful night. Leia was smiling; broadly and genuinely smiling the way that most diplomats and ordinary citizens had never seen… would never see. There was a twinkle in her eye from the camera's light and a warmth in her expression that left Han Solo's heart in agony for its loss. Han knew, as maybe no one else ever would, she had been looking at him when that holo was captured. He couldn't bear to see that. There was love in her eyes and he couldn't take it.

But neither was he able to stare in the opposite direction. The indentation on his pillow had been left by Leia's head. The blankets still smelled faintly of her perfume. If he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply he could almost feel her presence. But he couldn't do that; it hurt too much. Imagining Leia here was not going to bring her back and each time that reality hit him it was like losing her over again. He couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear his eyes open or closed. He couldn't bear drawing another breath.

For the first time he could remember, Han felt jealous of Luke. He'd been jealous to begin with simply of his friend's absence—of the fact that wherever Luke was he was likely exempt from the agony of this moment. Wherever Luke was, he was not likely stuck in his quarters trying not to watch the HoloNet reporting on Leia's funeral. He was likely not victim to the onslaught of memory and of madness that had plagued Han in every moment since he had seen the blood on Leia's dress and the pain in her eyes. He envied Luke's having not been in that ballroom. Luke hadn't seen her bleeding. He hadn't watched her collapse onto the dance floor as her blue dress turned red before his eyes. Luke hadn't had to feel her hand grow cold in his as the medics tried to keep the life in her until they could get her to the surgery.

He envied Luke his ignorance.

He was jealous of those damnable Jedi powers too. The ability to meditate or to ground and center himself might do him worlds of good at the moment. And there was another power Han wished he had—one more sinister. Hadn't old man Kenobi chosen the moment of his own death? Sure, Vader had felled a final blow, but Han was sure that the elderly Master had been gone before the saber made contact.

Han wished it were so easy—to just lay down and die. He had lay down with that as his firm intention; to allow himself the bliss of oblivion, the ability to stop this pain. Death would have been welcome, he yearned for it, he begged for it in the mumblings of his restless half sleep; begged Leia to come back and take him with her. If she had to be gone then he wished to be gone as well.

In his right hand, Han held the blaster that he had kept hidden from the authorities. More than once he had held it to his temple in hopes of making his escape from this hell. But it was the thing in his left hand that had time and again caused his shot to miss. He had managed to make a real mess of the walls, but had yet to end his own pain. He looked again at his left hand, not the least painful view, but the thing that was tethering him to this life nonetheless.

He was holding Leia's glove; clutching it as though it could save him from the madness that had been slowly consuming him since the night of the attack. She had left the soft leather accessory in his drawer in her haste to get them out the door and to the banquet on time. It was a tangible reminder of the last time he had seen her. A reminder of the night he had made love to her without being sure to tell her he loved her, of the night when he had held her in his arms without the ability to protect her from the evil that meant to take her from him, of the night when he had been ordered from her side by the damnable authorities who left her to die alone.

Died.

Alone.

Han couldn't shake the thought of Leia's last minutes. Had anyone been by her side? Had they eventually caved and let Chewie or Lando in the room? What about that little Alderaanian medic? Had he at least been there, or had she died with only droids as company? It made him shudder to imagine that; his precious Leia taking her final breath with only the cold comfort offered by an FX-7 or a 2-1B.

He clutched her glove and hated himself a little more. She would have been furious with him. Thoughts of suicide would not have been acceptable in her eyes—no matter how badly he was hurting. He had never imagined he could hurt this much. And he knew that every day of his life would bring this same pain. The thought of this emptiness going on forever as the future stretched out before him was more than he could bear, though. Would Leia not be able to forgive his weakness under the circumstances?

Han knew the answer to that; of course she wouldn't. Life was so sacred to her, his life more than most. She would have never been able to abide his thoughts of ending it all. But it was all he wanted. He wanted to find a way out of this pain.

And there was no way out. There is no escaping your own feelings, Han had learned. There was no escaping the hole in his life that had been left when Leia was ripped out of it. The first few days he had found his nirvana of oblivion in a bottle; but he had long since run out of liquor. Not long after the last bottle had run out, he'd found himself a sobbing, vomiting, heap on the floor of his 'fresher. For more than a day that's how he'd remained.

But this morning he had thought to be the General he knew Leia had hoped he'd become. He had brushed his teeth and showered, shaved, washed his hair, put on cologne; he was going to the memorial as a man who deserved to have shared the last dance with the Princess.

But when he opened his drawer to pull out an undershirt, there had been her glove.

And that had been the end of it. He couldn't keep himself from breaking down. He wasn't ready for Leia to be dead, and an appearance at her funeral would mean just that; that he had reached a point of acceptance which he was sure he was years—maybe decade—away from actually reaching. He knew himself well enough to know there was no chance of remaining in control were he to have gone.

He was not going to present himself to the galaxy as a sobbing and pitiful heap of a man. Leia's memory deserved better than that. He wanted to be strong for her; but she had been his strength—and now it had gone entirely from him. Better to keep his own council until he could pull himself together. More than once he had tried to do just that, but always his grief was too consuming to allow him to be functional for more than a moment at a time.

Finally, when he had no fight left in him, he'd allowed himself to collapse onto the bed. His eyes had found his blaster on the night table and he grabbed for it, glad for what seemed like a solution to his agony. But her glove was in his hand, reminding him of the beautiful and brilliant and vibrant woman who had loved him more than he had ever deserved to be loved and who would detest the idea of his contemplating suicide.

"Leia," he sobbed, as though the sound of her name would somehow make her nearer. He clutched her little glove in his hand tighter and tighter with every thought of her. This flimsy piece of leather and the wrinkles in his pillowcase were all he had left of the woman who had made his life. He had no idea how long he would be able to survive this grief. Again he studied his blaster.

The door to the sitting room opened suddenly. What the hell were those Coruscanti bastards doing in his quarters? He thought to point his blaster in their direction but didn't manage to react at all before a smoking grenade landed in the floor at the foot of the bed. Something in Han responded to that. It was like his grief was able, for a moment, to take a back seat to his survival instinct. A minute ago he had wanted to die—but that was not a decision he was about to let someone else make for him.

Han flipped his legs over the far side of the mattress and slid onto the floor, taking a defensive position behind the bed with his blaster trained on the small squad of men that had begun pouring into his bedroom behind the grenade. They were wearing gas masks; a fact which didn't bode well for Han's continued ability to defend himself. White smoke continued to billow from the hissing grenade, filling the room from floor to ceiling and all but completely obscuring Han's visibility. Based on what little he could see, Han didn't think these guys were with Coruscant Security Forces. This didn't seem like SOP for making an arrest.

Damn.

He had a bad feeling about this.

Han squeezed off a shot, and then another; remembering for his own purposes that the walls of this place were already well-scored from blaster bolts—a few more wouldn't really hurt anything. To Han's complete surprise, not one of them returned fire. That made no sense. The smoke was getting thicker by the instant and he was having a hell of a time making out just how many people were in his rooms, much less just what in hell they were doing.

The air was harder to breathe already, the hot smoke having risen from the grenade and cooled enough to be falling back to the floor. Han felt himself choking, and he pulled the sheet from the top of the bed to cover his nose and mouth. He listened to the footsteps of the men in his apartment and figured there must be four or five of them at least. There was no telling what the hell they wanted with him.

In a flash, the grenade that had been smoking at the foot of the bed exploded in a wild display of light and the loudest noise Han had ever heard. It was thoroughly disorienting. Han knew almost immediately that had been the intention. In the moments during which he could neither see nor hear, he was accosted by no fewer than three of the intruders. They yanked him to his feet, one of them taking hold of both of his hands. He let his blaster fall from his grasp, but he would fight as many of them as they could summon to keep hold of Leia's glove.

Dropping his weapon seemed enough for them. Han was struggling, but there were too many of them. One had a blaster pressed into his ribs, another had hold of his wrists, and a third came at him with a gas mask similar to the ones the intruders were wearing. He took a deep breath once the mask covered his face; choking on smoke from a flash-bang grenade was not a pleasant experience.

He knew immediately that he shouldn't have done that; whatever he was breathing now was not clean air. He was suddenly dizzy, and his knees began to buckle beneath him. These people were here to kidnap him. That was not good. Han felt a needle pressing into his backside and gasped, more from the shock than the pain of it. He gasped—another breath of whatever gas was in the mask causing him to feel dizzier and dizzier still.

Perhaps whatever had been in the syringe was meant to fully incapacitate him. If that were the case, the chem had certainly done its room was spinning violently. Han passed out where he stood— Leia's glove still clutched tightly in his hand.


	9. Chapter 9

The first thing Han was aware of when his eyes came open was that he had no idea where he was.

He remembered the assault in his quarters, the men in gas masks, and the fact that he had been injected with something. Wherever he'd been taken, hit probably wasn't anyplace he wanted to be. He tried to go for his blaster before remembering he'd dropped it back in his bedroom. But in reaching for it he realized he couldn't move. Han frowned; he had a very bad feeling about this.

Someplace strange, brought here by force, unable to move: those were never good signs. Han shifted his gaze from right to left, trying to get some idea of the space he'd found himself in. His eyes weren't working properly either; his vision was blurry and the lights all had disturbing halos around them. But at least he was able to move them. It wasn't much, but it was something.

The room was gray; the ceiling was a lighter gray and the carpet a darker gray. That could be good news— jail cells were seldom carpeted. There was a door straight ahead and he thought he could see another far off in his periphery to the right. He couldn't turn his head to be sure. He guessed there was a HoloNet receiver next to the door he could see, but if that's what it was, it was a very old model. He could tell that he was lying on a chaise of some sort; his head was elevated, but his boots were at an even height with his chest.

"Drink this," a voice said to him, placing a straw into his mouth. Before thinking, Han did as she instructed, sucking in a mouthful of whatever was being offered. It was some time in the process of swallowing when he realized that might not have been such a good idea, but by then he was committed. He could only hope that, were it poisoned, one sip wasn't a fatal dose. His trepidation at having swallowed whatever it was must have been written all over his mostly-immobile face, because the woman spoke again as he swallowed. "It's only water," she assured him.

"I can't move," Han said, frowning heartily as the straw was removed from his lips. He could see the hand of his minder, and took mental note of the fact that his keeper was most likely human.

"The gas was the paralytic," she told him.

 _Great,_ he thought, _whoever she is, she was in on it._

"You didn't get much of it," her voice continued, "start by trying to move your fingers and your toes. It should only be a few minutes until you're able to sit up."

"You didn't want to tell me that," he informed her, allowing all of his anger to come out in his voice. "You don't want me getting well so fast."

"There is no need for such animosity, General Solo," the woman said back to him. So she knew who he was. Why did that not surprise him? "We have no desire to harm you." Han nodded his head.

He could nod his head now; that was progress.

"Who's this 'we'?" he asked snidely. "Because I only see you and me and once this chem wears off I'm going to have a serious advantage." He couldn't actually be sure that the room was empty save for the two of them, but he saw no benefit in letting her know that. The woman chuckled under her breath.

"There are only the two of us in this room at the moment," she said back to him. "And I am hoping only to talk to you." Han grumbled. Across the room the antiquated HoloNet receiver came to life. Han grumbled louder and clutched his left hand tighter. He still had hold of Leia's glove. He could feel it, he could squeeze it; the woman hadn't been exaggerating when she had said that his ability to move would be returning quickly.

"Turn that off!" Han snapped. He had no interest in listening to any eulogies. Mon Mothma was going on about how the brightest stars burn out the fastest and it turned Han's stomach to hear it. Clichés about tragedy and platitudes about honoring Leia's memory were about enough to make him sick. There was no honor in what had happened to her.

"This bothers you," the woman asked, her voice as calm and plain as it had been.

"Hell yes it bothers me," Han retorted, turning his head toward the sound of her voice. He could turn his head; more progress. He got his first good look at the woman keeping him company. She was older; between forty and fifty, and dressed in a grey-green pant suit. She didn't look at all like the police, nor did she resemble in the slightest the goons in gas masks who had come to kidnap him. Seeing her gave him no further indication of what the hell was going on.

He tried to find answers in his improving view of the room. The woman was sitting on a long, shallow sofa just to the right of the head of the chaise where Han was laying. There was a low table before the sofa and an armchair on the far side. The place looked a little bit like his own rooms, although he was pretty sure no one would have gone to all the trouble of kidnapping him just to move him elsewhere in the BOQ.

"I'll turn the HoloNet off if you will agree to talk to me," she answered him. Han closed his eyes and tried to block out Mon Mothma's speech with his own voice.

"You're not going to get anything out of me," he declared gruffly. He didn't think this woman intended to torture him, but it had been his experience that people were rarely kidnapped in order to participate in a pleasant chat. She could ask him anything she wanted; he would tell her nothing. Hell, she could torture him if she damned well pleased. He'd survived torture before, and Leia had endured torture on the Death Star beyond Han's very imagination and she'd given nothing up. He would hold his tongue for her sake. "If you want information then that's too damned bad," Han spat. He was starting to get angry and he liked it. "And if you're thinking that you'll be able to extort the New Republic, I hate to inform you they've got bigger things to do right now then come lookin' for me. In fact, you may not have known this, but nobody's allowed to come around me right now. They're not even going to miss me." Han felt the rise and fall of his chest with his breathing. He had been so numb from pain over the last few weeks that the anger welling up inside him seemed almost pleasant. It felt good to feel something other than pain. The woman shook her head and clicked her tongue against her teeth.

"Now now, General," she chided him gently. "Don't talk like that." Han propped himself up on his elbow and frowned over at her. He was regaining his mobility; this was good.

"You want to tell me why the hell I'm here?" he asked her as strongly as he could without raising his voice.

"In time," she said back to him. "What I'd like to discuss what I know about the assassination attempt that you were party to just two weeks ago."

"Party to?" Han felt a surge of adrenaline and managed to sit up, swinging his legs over the edge of the chaise. If she were implying that he really had had something to do with Leia's death, then he'd find it in himself to knock her block off. He'd been bristling for a good patch of violence since he'd been told he was a suspect and he wasn't afraid to take his pain out on her.

"Witness to, then," the woman corrected her statement. "The assassination attempt you were witness to." Han sighed.

"Assassination attempt," he grumbled. Han hated those polite and political words. It all sounded so civilized. There was nothing civil about it. "Call it by whatever sterile name you want," he spat, "Leia was murdered."

"We're trying to ascertain the identity of the would-be assassin as well as the motivation behind it."

"Motivation? Any idiot can see that whoever was behind this was trying to derail the Charter Summit," he declared. "They wanted to sabotage the New Republic."

"That part is easy," the woman allowed. "The hard part is to figure out the specifics. What person or persons stand to gain the most from a disruption in the Summit? Is there a chance the Charter won't be ratified, and if so, who is leading the opposition? And what about a neutral party? Is anyone hiding anything? The fact of the matter is that the ones involved are not likely to be the most vocal opponents. We're watching those on the sidelines as closely as those who seem openly antagonistic. Is the perpetrator hiding in plain sight or are they just hiding?" Han shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know from politics," he told her, lowering himself to lie on his back again. The room had begun to spin a little and there was an unpleasant tingling in his limbs as though they had all been asleep and were waking up simultaneously. "But I do know one thing," he added, tears suddenly in his eyes and in his voice. "They didn't have to do it." He sighed heavily, wiping an errant tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. "I mean… why Leia? If they'd bothered to learn anything about her—anything at all—they'd have known that they didn't have to do it. Whatever they wanted—if it was in her power she'd have given it to them. All she ever wanted was _peace_. She worked her whole life for peace and she barely ever had a moment of it." He shook his head and sniffed. "At least I can hope she's at peace now," he added quietly.

Han was doing everything he could not to let himself become overwhelmed. Losing his cool in this situation was the last thing he needed to do. He still didn't know why he had been brought to this place and he had no idea who this woman was. He needed to keep his head screwed on straight.

"I can tell you why they chose her," the woman said back to him. Han turned his head toward her. He was listening. "She had no one," the woman explained. "No parents, no children, no one to raise their voices too high to keep an investigation going. Whoever did this was likely counting on the New Republic to have bigger proverbial fish to fry—counting on them to deem salvaging their summit for more important than any criminal investigation. They presumed to destabilize the Summit and get away."

"Well, they were wrong," Han said to her, sniffling again. "She wasn't alone. She has a brother; maybe they didn't know that. She has a twin brother who's the only Jedi knight left in the galaxy. When Luke gets back here he's going to get to the bottom of this pretty damned quickly. And she had me," he added, softly. "And I…" Han felt his words catching in his throat. What was he about to say? ' _I loved her'_? Those words sounded so weak and so hollow in his mind that he couldn't even manage to say it out loud.

"You," the woman said, picking up his thought and running with it, "ought to know that you are no longer a suspect." Han turned his face toward her again.

"When did that happen?" he asked.

"This morning," she shared, "late this morning. Just an hour or two ago, actually. It will be reported on the evening news—as soon as the coverage of the memorial has wound down. This morning the evidence lab finally proved the conclusion that we had made immediately."

"Conclusion?" Han had no idea what she was talking about. And he still had no idea the identity of this 'we' she kept referring to.

"We knew that no one could look at Senator Organa the way you were looking at her when the attack took place and simultaneously attempt to end her life," she told him.

"The way I was looking at her?" Han asked. "You could see that?"

The woman nodded.

"As you know," she began, "there were no surveillance cameras in the ballroom. The Coruscant Security Force immediately confiscated the recordings from the HoloNet cameras that were present that night, but it was not a speedy process sifting through them. A camera on the band stand caught the two of you in the seconds before the attack took place," she explained. "You kissed her hand just before she was stabbed; your left hand is clearly visible holding her right. Human reaction time would not have allowed you release her hand from yours, draw a weapon, and commit the assault. The theory then held that you stabbed her from behind, with your right hand—your dominant hand—which was wrapped around behind her. That theory fit with what the surgeons said as to the fact that the Senator was attacked from behind. However, this morning, before leaving for the memorial, the technicians in the crime lab finally got around to looking closely at your uniform coat."

"My coat?" Han asked. He hadn't even remembered until right then that he had left his coat on the floor of the ballroom after having wadded it up under Leia's head.

"There is blood on the sleeve," the woman informed him, "which seemed an indication that you were involved. But upon closer inspection, a distressed patch was found near the cuff. Whatever weapon stabbed the Senator, it passed through the wool of your sleeve. It is impossible for a human to wield a weapon at the angle from which the Senator was stabbed and to catch his own sleeve where yours was damaged. You are exonerated," she declared. "And right on time, I might add. It was most fortunate that things came out the way they did; it would have been difficult in the extreme to get you here otherwise. We might have had to wait before taking any decisive action."

"Before you could kidnap me?" Han quizzed. He had no idea what was going on, but he did hope that she was correct in the fact that he was no longer under suspicion of murder.

"Before we could get you away," she corrected him, her voice becoming sterner all of the sudden. "We could not do so easily until you were cleared. And we also could not do so until after the funeral. Everything needed to appear proper at the service; including you. But when we discovered that you were not in attendance—and yet the guard had been taken from your door—then we knew the time had come."

"The time for what?" he asked her. Han could feel his body becoming functional again and he sat up, more confidently this time, turning on the seat of the chaise to face the woman completely. He slipped Leia's glove into the breast pocket of his shirt.

"For you to disappear," she answered him in a tone that was clearly intended to ease his mind. It didn't. "The news will postulate you were so overwhelmed with grief that you took just took off to be alone with your woes. And we planted rather well- faked holo footage in the barracks computer that looks like you moped right down the hall and out the door."

"I don't understand," Han told her, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his head in his hands. "Why did I need to disappear?" he asked quietly, but with deathly intensity. "Why am I here?"

"Because I'm here," a voice answered him from across the room. Han was sure his ears were playing tricks on him. It sounded like…. But it couldn't be…? He felt his lower lip trembling as he raised his head in disbelief.

"Leia?" he whispered. His eyes had not come fully clear yet, but there was no mistaking what he was seeing.

"Hello Han," she said back to him. She was standing in the now open doorway leading into the adjacent room. Her left hand was resting on the door frame and he could see a sensor port in the crook of her arm. Her hair was still done up the way it had been the last time he'd seen her, only now there were no jewels adorning her head, and stray sections of hair were coming loose in several places. There were two faint brownish stains on the right-hand side of the hospital-issue gown she wore, almost directly opposite the snaps that held it closed. She was very pale, and thinner than she ought to be. Tthere were dark circles beneath her eyes, but she was _alive_.

She was alive and less than four meters away from him.

Han sprung to his feet but realized instantly that his legs were not ready to oblige standing. He fell, rather haphazardly, back to a seated position on the settee. Leia took a single, shaky step further into the room. Han was still looking at her, and he could see that her steps were even more unsure than his had been. Taking a deep breath, he tried again to stand, this time much more slowly and carefully. Once he managed to get to his feet, the adrenaline combined with the sheer force of his will and allowed him to move toward her.

Leia was smiling at him with tears in her eyes. She'd thought Lusiil was going to rig up holocams or tap a security feed. She'd never have guessed there was even a chance of bringing him here. She was grateful and overwhelmed.

Han closed the distance between them faster than he would have guessed his feet would carry him, taking hold of her face as soon as he could reach. His hands knew it was her—the same as his eyes and ears had. Han kissed her then, not once, but a dozen times at least, pausing after each to take in one detail or another of her face. It was less than a minute before his knees gave out again; he collapsed right where he stood, letting his hands fall to her waist and resting his head against her hip.

Han found himself sobbing as he knelt there, clinging to the fabric of her gown. Leia threaded her fingers through his hair, stroking his head and making tiny shushing noises. She wished she could do more to comfort him. She had guessed that her supposed death had been hard on him, but nothing could have prepared her to see this kind of pain up close. She was completely overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings.

Leia knew she was no Jedi, but she could feel the changes in the Force warping around him like a blanket of sorrow. She felt like it would smother her—swallow her whole.

"I love you," Han sobbed, burying his face in the folds of her gown.

"I know," she whispered.

It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard. That was their exchange. It had been so ever since the first time she said she loved him all those years ago. That morning beside the carbonite chamber, he couldn't answer her declaration with one of his own; it would have meant so little for her to know how he felt about her at that moment. He had thought it better to let her know that he had been aware of her feelings; to congratulate her for loving him so well that she hadn't had to say it. And when he had finally stumbled into the moment when he could tell her he loved her as well, she had answered him similarly.

Han found some strength and managed to get to his feet again. He took Leia's hands in his and gazed intently into her eyes. The reality of this moment was finally sinking in; this was really Leia— _his Leia_. She was alive, and he was touching her. Every prayer he had ever whispered to any deity had been answered. Every wish he had ever dreamt of making had somehow come true. Leia could feel him as he looked at her, the shroud of despair lifting from him piece by piece with every breath he took in.

"Senator," the woman on the couch called out. "I do hate to interrupt this touching reunion," she said, her voice lacking any trace of the sarcasm that might have accompanied such a comment, "but you need to get back in bed."

Han gasped. He hadn't even been thinking about that. Leia was likely in some considerable pain and here he was clinging to her instead of caring for her. Leia nodded.

"All right, Lusiil," she agreed. Leia took a step backward and perched herself on the edge of a raised repulsor chair that Han hadn't yet noticed. She let go of his hands as the chair lowered itself several inches, stopping at normal chair height. Leia backed the thing farther in to the adjacent room, which Han now realized was the bedroom, and steered it to the far side of the bed. As she parked herself at the bedside, Leia flipped a switch and the high, solid left arm of the chair pivoted down ninety degrees; creating a wide platform even with both the seat of the chair and the surface of the bed. Carefully, she slid herself across the platform and onto the mattress before pressing the appropriate button to return the arm to its original position.

The older woman, whose name Han had just learned was Lusiil, followed Leia to the bed. She pushed the repulsor chair out of her way and then crouched down beside Leia, picking up her ankles and lifting her legs up on to the mattress. She placed a hand behind Leia's shoulders and helped ease her down onto a stack of pillows until she was lying semi-upright on her back. "General Solo," the older woman addressed him. She signaled with her hand that he should come closer. "Could you reconnect the tube, please?" she asked. Han had no idea what she was talking about, but nodded his head and crossed to sit on the near side of the bed.

Once he got where he was going it became apparent what he was being asked to do. A stub of tubing was attached to the sensor port in Leia's left arm. Another, longer, tube with a pflange at its end lay on the bed beside her, running to a computer unit connecting six bags of IV medicine which hung behind the head of the bed. Han took up the two lengths of tubing and coupled them one to the other.

Han could see Leia visibly relax within seconds of being reconnected to the medicine. He could only guess that at least one of those bags was full of a very powerful pain killer. He leaned over, propping himself on his hip and his elbow. With his right hand he stroked her cheek and with his left he threaded his fingers through hers. "You all right now, princess?" he asked her. Leia turned her head to face him and nodded. Lusiil, who had pulled the blankets up around Leia's waist and was now moving the repulsor chair back toward the door, made an indignant noise in the back of her throat.

"What?" Han snipped, turning his head for a moment to face her. Lusiil shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Here is a woman," she began, as though addressing a courtroom, "who was elected by her people as the youngest ever member of the Galactic Senate, a signatory of the Declaration of a New Republic, a member of the Provisional Council and host to the Charter Summit and yet you choose to address her by an hereditary title rather than any of these that she has earned." She was clearly annoyed at him. Han shrugged and looked at Leia. She seemed somewhere between amused and annoyed.

"Hey," Han said back to Lusiil, trying to sound as close to his most normal self as he could under these extreme emotional circumstances, "She's the love of my life; 'll address her however I please." Han smiled at Leia's sparkling eyes, "isn't that right, your worshipfulness?" he asked, leaning his forehead against hers. Leia chuckled softly.

"Don't take anything this man says too seriously," she instructed, turning her head to face Lusiil and squeezing the hand she was holding.

"That's good advice," Han commented, quirking his eyebrows at her. He looked back at Leia's smile. "Except for the 'love of my life' part," he added, "that part was the truth." Both women let a laugh escape at that.

"I didn't say you weren't honest," Leia defended, "just not too serious."

"Yeah, all right," Han conceded, chuckling as well.

"I'll keep that in mind," Lusiil commented. "General," she addressed Han, her tone changing from personable to businesslike. "I believe there are a few things you still need to know about—questions I should answer for you." she said to him. Han nodded. He did still have a million questions.

Who was this Lusiil person and who was the 'we' that she kept referring to? Why did she have Leia here? How had she managed to smuggle Leia out of the Imperial Medcenter and into this place? Where exactly was this place, anyway? And if Leia was here, just who was in the casket being paraded through the streets of Coruscant?

"Yeah," he agreed, "I got a coupla questions." Han looked over at Lusiil and frowned. That was the understatement of the year.

"I do have answers for you General Solo," she said back to him. "Perhaps not everything you would like to learn, but I will tell you everything I know."

"Good," he allowed, "everything you know will be a good start." Lusiil smiled at him and crossed to the head of the bed.

She knelt beside the bed and easing two of the pillows out from under Leia's head and shoulders. "Comfortable?" Lusiil asked her patient. Leia smiled and nodded.

"Yes, thank you," Leia answered quietly, taking in a deep breath and allowing her eyes to close for a moment. Han knew that she wasn't really comfortable. She was either being polite or those were _some_ drugs she was on. In all the time they had been together Han had never known Leia to sleep on her back.

"Anything I can do for you, sweetheart?" he asked. Leia shook her head.

"Just being here," she said. "Thank you Lusiil," she added. She had no idea how to go about thanking Lusiil properly for bringing Han to her. She felt better just having him beside her than she had in days. Lusiil nodded toward Leia, a knowing smile on her face.

She stood up again and looked down at Han. Leia had always had a gift with words, but she had no idea how to go about thanking Lusiil properly for bringing Han to her. Everything felt better just having him beside her. Lusiil nodded toward Leia, a knowing smile on her face, before turning again to look at Han.

"The Senator has already heard this," she said, turning back to Han. "Perhaps we should return to the sitting room and let her rest while we talk." It was phrased as a suggestion, but Han was sure that he didn't have much choice. He felt his chest tighten at the thought of leaving Leia; even the next room was too far away from her right now. He didn't even want to let go of her hand.

Leia felt a change in Han immediately. He was terrified. She squeezed his hand and smiled at him. "It's all right," she assured him. "I'm not such good company when I'm asleep." Leia felt exhausted; more so than she had in days. The force of Han's emotions had likely taken a toll on her that she hadn't even been aware of. That, coupled the fact the narcotics always hit her hard when she had been off of the drip for any length of time, left her feeling completely drained.

Han sighed. He knew if he stayed there that his nerves would likely keep her awake; it had happened before. Better he leave her to get some rest. "Okay," he whispered. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Sweet dreams, princess," he wished her.

"Don't go far," she asked, smiling.

"I don't think I could if I wanted to," he answered her, smiling as well. It was true, he figured, and a light enough comment to ease Leia's mind. He stood up and let go of her hand, noticing instantly how cold he suddenly felt after letting her go. Lusiil had already left the bedroom and was waiting for him on the other side of the door. She was turning off the HoloNet receiver as Han hit the light switch. "Should I shut the door behind me?" he asked.

"No," Leia answered, shaking her head a little against the pillows. "Leave it open," she instructed, "I want you to hear me when I wake up."

"I'll keep an ear out," he assured her. Han tried not to let himself think about how things had been for her over the past couple of weeks.

He had been devastated at the news of her death, but now that his reality had changed, he couldn't help but begin to wonder what things had been like for Leia; in pain and without the comfort of a familiar face. He wasn't sure if he was happier for himself or for her that he was here now. "You get your rest and I'll be back here as soon as you're awake."

"I love you," she told him as he took the last step through the door. He turned around then and smiled at her, tears glistening in his eyes again as he did. Only this morning he would have given anything he had to hear her say those words again. He turned back to face her and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, giving her a wink as he answered:

"I know."


	10. Chapter 10

Leia hadn't even remembered how good warm water could feel. Her original intention had been to just wash her face and brush her teeth before bed; the same as every day. But something had left her less than satisfied in the process, and she had found herself bathing as best as she could.

She wasn't allowed a shower yet; her wounds were still healing, and she wasn't about to invite infection. They were expecting more fresh bandages in the next day, but until then Leia was having to be extra careful about the still-open wounds. She had run a soapy cloth over every inch of skin she could reach without pain and even managed a passable job on her legs with the electric shaver she'd found in the drawer beneath the sink.

Leia had taken so long in the 'fresher that Han had become concerned as to her well-being, and he had come in to check on her. When he had found her bathing herself, he'd offered to help.

Leia knew that he was partly joking, using her current state of undress as an opportunity to make a mildly lewd remark, but she had taken him up on his offer. He was washing her back now, carefully going over her shoulders and down her spine with the warm, sudsy washcloth. She sat on the edge of the commode with her gown dropped around her waist and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees to give him the easiest access.

"That feels nice," she told him, sighing at the pleasant sensation of warmth and the smell of the starblossom-scented soap.

"Good," Han said to her, kneading at her shoulders with both hands as the cloth hung around her neck. "That's what I was aiming for."

"You'd better watch out," she warned him playfully, "you're too good at that; I might ask you to do it every day." She let out a contented sigh as Han re-wet the washcloth in the warm tap and ran it again over her back.

"I'd be happy to," he said back to her, bending down to kiss the back of her neck. She smiled in enjoyment of the sensation; she had missed this closeness more than anything. Han moved the cloth down her back again, passing it over her shoulder blades and ribcage.

"Be careful of the scar," she reminded him. "It's supposed to stay dry." Han nodded. He didn't want anything to do with her wounds and was just fine with leaving that place alone. "What does it look like?" she asked him quietly, "the one on my back? I can see the ones on my stomach, but I don't know what my back looks like."

Han frowned. He had been trying not to look at it.

More fresh bandages should be arriving tonight or tomorrow but as of now Leia's wounds were open to the air. And Han, who had never been squeamish a day in his life, felt his stomach turn when he looked at them closely. The scar on her back was as long as the space from his fingertips to his wrist. It was healing better than the two circular wounds on her front were, but that was to be expected; as this was the scar from her surgery and those two wounds, although cleaned and debrided in the medcenter, were the result of the attack. The wounds had been through and through, coming from back to front, and the surgeons had done what they could to repair both internal and external damage, but it was clear to Han that the Imperial Medcenter Personnel were planning to rely heavily on their bacta tanks for the majority of wound care.

"Not as bad as I thought it would look," he said. "It's better than the two in the front. It should heal nicely, sweetheart." He had no idea what he was talking about, and he hoped that Leia couldn't tell. The wound _wasn't_ as ugly as he had expected it to be; but he had no clue at all as to how it was going to heal. He thought it looked a fair sight worse than the scar on his own chin had at this stage, but he didn't think it would help Leia to hear that. He figured this was one occasion when it was okay to tell her a fib.

"We're hoping to source up a portable bacta unit," Lusiil's voice called from the next room. She had been changing the bed linens and Han had almost forgotten she was in there. "If we manage to get our hands on one of those, then the wounds shouldn't leave a scar at all."

"I don't care if it does scar, Leia," Han said softly to her, passing the cloth over her neck again and kneading with his fingers at the tension that he felt beginning to build up again. "You're beautiful." Leia tilted her head up and smiled at him.

"Thank you," she said. She knew that he was just trying to make her feel better, and she loved him for it. "Lusiil," she called into the next room, "I didn't hear you come in."

"Sorry, Senator," Lusiil called back to her. "I brought you clean sheets," she said, "And I brought General Solo a change of clothes, and for the both of you I've brought some very interesting information." Han was pleased at the thought of clean clothes; he had been making do for three days in the pieces of uniform he had been wearing when he was kidnapped.

But the idea of information made the thought of fresh underthings pale in comparison.

"Interesting?" Leia turned her head toward the slightly ajar refresher door. "Define 'interesting'."

"We think we know who was behind your attack," Lusiil said back: slowly and deliberately as though giving Han and Leia time to let each word sink in as she pronounced it. Leia sat up straight, causing Han to nearly drop the washcloth. She looked at him urgently and he answered with a nod of his head. He grabbed the towel he'd draped over the edge of the tub and carefully dabbed the moisture off of her back before helping her back on with her gown. He did up the snaps for her and then helped her to her feet.

Leia took a step toward the exit; she was a little shaky on her feet. Han took hold of her, firmly but gently, by the elbow. He steadied her as best he could as they came slowly back into the bedroom. Lusiil was just tucking in the fresh linens as the two of them came through the door.

"So are you going to tell us," Han began, helping Leia across the floor and toward the bed, "or do we get to guess?"

"Your heroism may be legendary, General Solo," Lusiil joshed with him as she found a seat in the near corner of the room, "but your patience leaves something to be desired." Han frowned at her. Leia, couldn't help but chuckle softly: she knew all about Han's lack of patience.

"You're damned right I'm impatient," he declared, pulling back the blankets as he helped Leia into the bed.

"Han," she said to him softly, placing her hand over his.

He looked down at Leia and shook his head. How she could be so calm and enduring under these circumstances amazed him; but then there was a lot about Leia that he found amazing. He grumbled under his breath but otherwise made no further comment. Han pulled the blankets up over Leia's waist before moving to the far side of the bed. He re-connected the IV tubes one to the other and then took a seat on the end of the mattress.

"Do you really think you know who it is?" Leia asked. Lusiil nodded her head.

"We are all but completely certain that your attacker was a Kobok," she stated plainly.

"A Kobok?" Han asked, frowning. Lusiil nodded again.

"What we have overheard from our wires makes it appear as though the Kobok delegation seems to be against the ratification of the Charter," the older woman told them. "However, they have made no move in the Assembly to withdraw from the discussions. A people whose space is so far out in the Tingel Arm could easily choose not to join the New Republic, but they have made no indication that they wish to be elsewhere."

"We were surprised by their willingness to attend the Summit," Leia shared. "The Kobok people have always leaned heavily toward isolationism. The idea that they might be afraid that the New Republic could be just as destructive a galactic presence as the Empire was isn't much of a stretch."

"And the wounds in your body are at a reasonable distance to have been made by a Kobok's claws," Lusiil replied to Leia.

"That would explain why they confiscated every weapon that was pulled when you were attacked," Han said to her, "but they never found the murder weapon." His voice broke a little at the words 'murder weapon'. He looked intensely at Leia; something he had learned to do when his anxiety over her near death threatened to overwhelm him. She was sitting upright in the bed and visibly pleased to have a mental puzzle to tackle. He sighed quietly. Leia was acting like herself. He loved that.

"But Koboks are venomous," Leia reminded the others. "Were there any traces of a toxin?"

"They can choose whether or not to envenomate," Lusiil informed her. "And, of course, under these circumstances they would certainly choose not to. Any traces of venom would have led us straight to the culprit. They would want for the suspicion to be everywhere equally. They would hope that suspicion would tear apart coalitions and perhaps even collapse the business of the Summit."

"But it hasn't," Han declared. "The Charter is all but ratified already. The Senate is gonna open on time; like it or not the New Republic is a reality."

"That is true," Lusiil agreed, smiling. "What the would-be assassins didn't know was just how adored a personality they chose to attack. They didn't mean to make a martyr, but that's what they did."

Han shook his head and placed a hand on Leia's ankles. He still wasn't comfortable talking about things like martyrdom. He had spent the last few days trying to get accustomed to the two women talking about Leia's murder as though it were an intriguing what-if scenario, but he wasn't quite ready to get on board with that.

"And your people are sure that it was a Kobok?" Han asked Lusiil. She nodded her head. At first, he hadn't been so quick to believe and to trust Lusiil. She had been behind his rather unpleasant kidnapping. But it was clear that she had been a part of the very successful plot to fake Leia's death, and that she cared deeply for Leia and for the New Republic.

And what's more; Leia trusted her. That meant more to him than all the information she could give them put together.

"We are reasonably certain," she answered. "we're even reasonably certain we have it narrowed down to the individual."

"And how's that?" Han asked, clearly dubious.

"Several delegations sent representatives home after the opening ceremonies," Lusiil answered, "beings who came for the celebrations but who had no part to play in the business of the Summit. The Kobok delegation only sent home one. His name was Agva Thinh, and he was within what we've calculated as his arm's length of the Senator in the ballroom."

"So you think that's him," Leia posited.

"We do. But we can't be sure until we do some more investigating. We are hoping to free up personnel to visit the Tingel Arm and see for themselves what is going on in Kobothi space."

"You're short on personnel?" Han asked then. He found that a little bit hard to believe. From what Lusiil had told him about The Quiet, they seemed to be everywhere all at once and all-knowing at the same time.

"Not short, per se," she said back to him. "But we have been more or less a sleeping organization for the past twenty-five years," she reminded him. "We do not have the resources available to us that we once had. We are trying to establish contact with a cell on Morishim. If they are willing to venture as far as the Corporate Sector then they will be able to tap in to some Kobok transmissions and perhaps glean from that the confirmation of what we suspect."

"And how long is that gonna take?" Han asked, a little bit confrontationally. "The Summit can't last forever. And whatever evidence that your people get has to get into the hands of the Provisional Council somehow; and since you don't officially exist and all it might be a little bit hard for you to point stuff out to people."

"You let me handle that, General," Lusiil instructed him. "Remember that we have more than a thousand years of experience _not existing_ and we will do just fine at leaking the information to the right people at the right time."

"Yeah, well…." Han had no idea what to say to that. But still, he did have to wonder whether or not Lusiil and The Quiet had any kind of a long-term plan. He frowned at her. "I'm not used to letting other people handle stuff that effects my life," he finally declared. Lusiil smiled patiently at him; he wondered if she'd picked that up from Leia. He'd been on the receiving end of more patient smiles from the princess than he cared to count.

"I understand that, General," Lusiil said back. "But you are just going to have to trust us on this." Han sighed and looked over at Leia.

"You're being awfully quiet, Princess," he said to her. "What are you thinking?" It was Han's experience that every time Leia failed to participate actively in a conversation this important it was because her brain was working overtime and she was about to come out with something brilliant.

"The same thing you're thinking," Leia said back to him with a half-smile. Han grinned widely at her; of course she was thinking the same thing. She knew him better than he knew himself and it was no surprise that she saw the situation similarly. That was just one of the zillions of reasons they worked so well together.

"Anyone want to let me in on what people are thinking?" Lusiil asked the both of them.

"I was thinking that I'd go there myself," Han answered. "I was thinking," he continued, standing up and taking a step toward Lusiil, "that I could get to the edge of Kobothi Space in a couple of days. The _Falcon_ wouldn't even look out of place in the Corp Sec and I'd certainly be welcome to walk into Mon Mothma's office with any pile of evidence I might be able to get."

"Actually," Leia corrected him, "I was thinking that we could go there together." She sat up straight and slid her feet out from under the blankets and onto the floor. Han frowned. She was sitting up to make the point that she was well enough to make a trip like the one they were proposing. She hadn't bothered to unhook her IV tube, which was now pulled to the extent of its length and he guessed that it was straining against the port catheter. She was probably more than a little bit uncomfortable, but he knew her well enough to know she wasn't going to admit it.

He was about to make her mad and he hated that.

"Then we were not thinking the same thing," he informed her sternly.

"We should go," she asserted. "If there is a situation in Kobothi space…"

"No _we_ should not!" Han cut her off. He had no use for her well thought-out and rational arguments as to why she should be included in any mission to the Tingel Arm. There was no way on this planet or any other that she was going to convince him that she was fit for space travel. Next thing he knew, she'd be volunteering to man the turret gun—and a space battle was neither the time nor the place to argue about it.

"Han," she chided him. He hated when she said his name in that tone of voice. They would have the rest of this conversation out of earshot of Lusiil. Han had a serious feeling that she was going to yell at him. Leia wasn't known for losing her temper, but Han had been on the receiving end of her wrath more than once, and he did not look forward to being there again. Maybe if they held off on having the fight for a little while she'd cool off enough not to yell.

Right now, he could tell she was mad. And he could tell she was mad at him.

Leia wore her most diplomatic expression as she sat ramrod straight on the edge of the bed. "Lusiil," she began, her voice cool and collected. "What I think that we can agree on is that there is some need for a pair of ears in the Kobothi Sector." Lusiil nodded.

"Yes, Senator," she affirmed.

"And do I understand correctly that you may have comrades in the area that would be willing to do the listening for us?" Leia asked further.

"That is also correct," Lusiil answered. "In fact, we may already be listening," she added. "There has been no steady communication between cells in a quarter century," she explained, "but as far as I am able to discern, there are cells throughout the galaxy that have continued to function the same as we here on Coruscant. If that is the case with the cell on Morishim, then they may already know what we wish to learn. It should be a day, maybe less, before we hear back from them. It could be that no one needs to go anywhere at all." Leia nodded subtly. She knew what Lusiil was getting at.

Han knew it, too. Lusiil was letting the both of them know there was really no need to fight about anything just yet. If the people on Morishim had been as vigilant over the years as the few left on Coruscant, then everything had been taken care of already. He was kind of glad that the prospect of an active cell on Morishim might postpone the fight that he and Leia were about to get in to.

"Yeah, well…" Han began again. "You'll keep us posted, I guess?" Lusiil nodded as she stood from her chair.

"I will," she answered him. Lusiil gave a nod to Leia, who was still sitting upright, her hands folded in her lap, and her face as serene as she could make it seem. "And I will keep in mind your most generous offer, General," she added. "Good night," she wished the both of them before heading straight out of the bedroom, through the sitting room, and out the door.

"To you as well," Leia managed to say back before Lusiil was gone entirely from the apartment. Once the doors had shut behind their keeper, Han turned to look at Leia. He waited a moment for her to do something, to say something, anything. But all she did was continue to sit—straight and tall and perfectly still on the edge of the bed. She didn't look back at him.

It was clear to him that he had upset her. He hadn't meant to, but he would rather her be upset and alive and someplace safe than happy and in danger. Han sighed. He couldn't stand it. Shaking his head as he went, Han crossed to the side of the bed and knelt on its edge. Careful not to nudge the straining IV tube, he scooted himself across the blankets until he was kneeling directly behind Leia.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he encouraged her to lean against him. To his surprise, she did so without protest, relaxing back into his arms with an exhausted sigh.

"It's late," he said to her.

Leia just nodded. It was late, and they would get nothing accomplished other than a missed night's sleep if they were to start arguing now over a point that might be entirely moot in the long run. Better not to dwell on things until they knew better what the situation really was. Han sighed. His breath felt good on her neck and her ear and Leia allowed herself a tiny smile of enjoyment.

He could tell she was willing to drop it for the time being, and it pleased him. Han moved his hands from her arms to her hair, pulling out pins as he combed through her unruly tresses. "You're fighting a losing battle there, flyboy," Leia lightheartedly informed him. "My hair has been up like that for weeks, I'm not sure it'll ever come down." Han chuckled, the vibration of his chest relaxing Leia that much more.

"I'm not one to surrender so easy, highness," he answered, still pulling the pins from her hair. He found the last of them and untangled it from the underside of her twisted plaits before tucking the lot of them into his back pocket. There must have been twenty different braids and twists that had made up her hairstyle. He slipped the ribbons from the ends of the braids, one by one combing through the lengths of hair until only her unbound wavy tresses remained.

Leia closed her eyes and enjoyed the treatment. He ran his fingers through the length of her hair, pausing to massage her scalp every few strokes. "You know you're going to have to brush it for me now," Leia told him, not making any attempt at all to mask how enthralled she was with the thought. "I can't raise my arms above my head to do it myself."

"It'll be my pleasure, princess," he whispered back, still running his hands through the impressive length of her hair. Han pushed her hair to the side and bent down to kiss her neck. "But right now you should try and sleep."

"Do I have to?" she asked, reaching her left hand behind her to pat him on the knee. Han ran his fingers through the length of her hair again.

"Yes you do," he answered, kissing her on the jawbone. "Come here," he encouraged, sliding himself farther across the bed and lowering her onto the mattress as he went. Han guided her shoulders toward her pillows, pulling two of them off of the pile as he went and fluffing the remaining one. Han bent over the edge of the mattress and picked up Leia's legs below the knee, easing them up onto the bed. Once she was lying flat, he pulled the blankets she had tossed off back over her until she was covered from her feet to her shoulders. "How's that?" he asked, stroking her brow.

"Not as nice as your hands in my hair," she answered honestly, "but I'm all right."

"Good. Sweet dreams, Princess." Han bent down to kiss her forehead as he moved to scoot off the far side of the bed. Leia caught his hand before he could get up.

"Stay?" she asked him. Han nodded. He had no problem sitting with her until she fell asleep. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

"I can do that," he answered.

"Han," she began, turning to face him. Han shook his head; he knew what was coming.

"Shhh," he countered, "not now. You go to sleep. We'll talk another time." Leia smiled drowsily at him and nodded.

"All right," she agreed. "Good night, Han," she added as she pulled his hand to her lips and kissed it.

He smiled as he watched her close her eyes and settled in beside her before whispering back:

"Good night, Princess."


	11. Chapter 11

Han was snoring, but Leia was sure that wasn't what woke her. Han had spent his nights in 'the bunker' thus far on the couch in the sitting room. Leia figured tonight he must have drifted off waiting for her to fall asleep. She couldn't help but smile at the sleeping General on the bed beside her. He was curled up on his side with his head propped on his arm just shy of the pillows, and his feet—still in his boots— hung off the far edge of the bed.

There was a noise in the other room. Someone was here. That was probably what had caused her to wake. She might have been injured, in pain, and heavily medicated, but her vigilance was still in full effect. Leia reached over and gingerly unhooked the IV tubes one from the other before easing herself out from under the covers. She came to her feet carefully and paused to take a deep breath. It surprised her a little just how good this felt. The chronometer situation hadn't been remedied, so she had no idea how long she might have been asleep—but however long it had been, it was enough for the moment. Leia reached for the repulsor chair that was parked just on the far side of her night table.

Before she sat, she looked back at Han. He hadn't been sleeping well; she knew that. The last thing she wanted to do right now was disturb him; the maneuvering thrusters on the old chair were awfully loud. Han was a notoriously sound sleeper, but she doubted even he could sleep through that racket. Nodding her head, Leia stepped behind the back of the chair and used it to help steady herself as she walked toward the door to the other room.

Dr. Sawyer was on the far side of the settee. He was carrying with him several small travel cases along with what looked like the kind of case a musician might use to transport a large drum. Leia passed her hand over the control panel, shutting the door to the bedroom before greeting her visitor.

"Hello Dr. Sawyer," she said, taking another step into the room.

"Good evening, Senator," he smiled as he returned her greeting. Dr. Sawyer was a little man; several centimeters shorter than Leia was, in fact. He was very old by human standards and bald save for two little tufts of white hair that extended upward from just behind his ears. "You're looking well," he told her.

"Thank you," she answered, letting go of the repulsor chair and walking under her own power to sit on the sofa.

" _Very_ well," the old gentleman clarified, smiling at her progress. "I've brought you some things." Sawyer picked up one of the travel packs and crossed to sit beside her. Setting the case down on the sofa between them, he pulled open the latches and opened the lid. "These," he told her, holding up one of the many plast-wrapped packages that were packed into the case, "are anesthetic bandages with a tiny bit of bacta salve infused in them. They're self-adhesive, and you've got enough here to last you until you don't need them anymore; provided they get changed every other day at the time of the treatments."

"Treatments?" Leia asked. She had no clue what he was talking about.

"That's what's in the big case," he answered her proudly. "Managed to get my hands on a large enough portable bacta system to do what we need it to. I had hoped for a whole tank, but this will do. It may not be the most comfortable solution, but it'll work. I've still got to get a filter down here, but that's not something we'll need to worry about for a few days. Lusiil knows how to use all of this," he assured her, waving his hands in the general direction of the equipment he had left on the far side of the room. "You'll start on the treatment tomorrow." Sawyer smiled and patted her hand.

"That is good news," Leia said back to him. She meant it. She was sick and tired of being sick and tired and she knew that a bacta treatment, no matter how uncomfortable, would be the surest and quickest way to get her well again. It was also a comfort to her vanity to remember what Lusiil had said earlier in the evening; a bacta treatment and these wounds might not scar.

Leia had been through enough in her life that she was glad her body had managed to avoid being marred by. She would remember forever the torture she'd barely survived at the hands of Darth Vader and his damnable IT-O droid. She certainly wouldn't forget the pain she'd suffered from Vader's henchmen on Bespin. And there was no forgetting the blaster hit she sustained in the Battle of Endor. But thanks to the miracles of modern medicine her body bore no outward reminders of such abuse. It brought to Leia some much needed peace of mind to consider this episode too could be erased from her skin—if not ever from her memory.

Dr. Sawyer looked around for a moment and then frowned in Leia's direction. "Has General Solo left us?" he asked. Leia shook her head. She hadn't thought about it, but the doctor had been by every night since Han had been in this place and since then he'd never seen the sofa without a sacked-out General on it.

"He fell asleep in the other room," Leia answered his question.

"An example you would do well to follow," the doctor suggested. Leia smiled.

"I'll do just that," she said back to him. The doctor nodded, rising from his seat on the sofa. He offered her his hand and she took it gladly, pleased at the help in standing up.

"It's good to see your mobility returning," Dr. Sawyer said to her.

"It's good to feel it returning," she affirmed, taking two shaky steps until she could again reach the repulsor chair and steady herself against it. "Albeit rather slowly," she allowed, gesturing to her reliance on the chair for balance. The old doctor shook his head.

"Don't push yourself," he told her. "Just do what you can do without pain and let the healing happen as it should." Leia nodded.

"I'll remember that," she said back to him.

"Good night," he added, as he reached the controls for the main door and began to key in the code that would open it.

"To you as well," she answered, making her way back toward the bedroom. Leia put her hand over the panel to open the door. Han was still sound asleep, snoring the same as he had been when she had left. Leia walked slowly, still leaning on the back of the chair, to her side of the bed. She used the chair for leverage to ease herself onto the mattress as lightly as she could lest she disturb him. Slowly she was able to pull her feet up and under the covers. She reached her hand out for the tube she'd left lying on the bed beside her and managed without too much trouble to reconnect it to the one connected to the port in her arm.

As her head found her pillow again, she realized that she was barely even in pain. The first drip of the drug cocktail into her system was enough to curb what little discomfort she was having, and Leia was pleased to take a deep, pain-free breath. She scooted herself a little closer to the still-snoring Han and fought very hard to resist the impulse to brush a stray lock of hair from his face. He shifted a little and his eyes came open. Leia smiled at him.

"Hey nerf herder," she greeted him quietly, letting herself fix his hair since he was awake anyway.

"Hey there pretty princess," he said back to her, catching her fingers in his hand and kissing her palm. "You should be sleeping," he reminded her.

"I get plenty of sleep," she assured him. Han grumbled at that; as far as he was concerned there was no such thing as enough sleep for Leia while she was healing. "Which is more than I can say for you," she added. Han yawned as she said that and then laughed at himself.

"Was I snoring?" he asked her, stretching his legs and taking a deep breath. Leia nodded.

"That's not what woke me," she said, "but: yeah, you were."

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he said, sitting up and letting go of her hand. "I'll go in the other room so we can both get back to sleep." Han moved to stand up but Leia managed to snag his wrist before he could.

"Don't," she implored. "I kind of missed your snoring," she told him. She was telling the truth. It had been more than a month since she and Han had spent the night in the same bed and she missed everything about it; even his snores. "Just stay here," she encouraged.

"I can sit with you for a few minutes," he agreed, turning to face her again. If Leia wanted him here, then he'd stay awake until she fell asleep; that was no real hardship.

"No," Leia said, "I mean stay. Take your boots off," she added, "Take your shirt off. Get under the covers. Sleep with me." She looked into his eyes and Han could tell she meant it. Han nodded and kissed her hand again.

"All right," he agreed, flashing her his most charming grin. Han stood from the bed and crossed quickly to the case Lusiil had left in a chair on the far side of the room. He removed the case from the chair and seated himself in it, pulling his boots and socks from his feet. He then kicked open the case on the floor at his feet and reached into it, fumbling around until he found a pair of flannel pajamas. Han took off his shirt and then changed his trousers before coming back to the bed and turning down the blankets.

Leia reached her arm across his pillows and gestured for him to put his head on her shoulder. Han slid himself under the covers and accepted her silent invitation. Leia turned her face toward him and kissed his forehead. He tilted his face up and caught her lips before she had a chance to move. Leia took full advantage of his lips on hers and kissed him far more passionately than he had expected.

"How are you feeling?" he asked when their lips finally parted.

"Happy," she answered him, bringing her right hand across her body to stroke his cheek.

"Good," he affirmed, nuzzling her shoulder with the side of his face.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him back. "Be honest." Han rolled over onto his back and sighed.

"You can tell, huh?" he asked. Leia nodded her head. She was sure he was antsy and annoyed at being in this proverbial holding pattern over the Kobok situation. They'd agreed to discuss it later and it was technically later.

"I can see right through you, flyboy," she asserted. "You'd take off right now if you knew how to get out of the door." Han shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm mad as hell, Leia," he confessed. "I feel completely useless here. And as much as I love being here to help take care of you; and I do, sweetheart, really; I love taking care of you. But as much as I want to be here and helpin' you get better, I also want to be out there doing something about what got you here in the first place." He was staring straight up at the ceiling and he laced his fingers behind his head as he continued. "Somebody tried to kill you, Leia," he reminded her, his voice beginning to betray his anguish and his unshed tears. "Somebody tried to take the love of my life away from me and, stars forgive me, but I want to shoot at something. I want to get out there in my ship and find the kriffing bastards who did this to you and blow them into more pieces than I could count." Leia reached out to place her hand on his arm.

"I appreciate your honesty," she told him.

"I'm not any good at sitting still," he shared. Leia nodded.

"You think I'm feeling any differently?" she asked. "I'm angry too, Han," she asserted. "I'm here; locked in some underground safe room while the constitution I helped to write is being debated at the Summit I helped to organize. These people, whoever they are, whatever their motivations, have robbed me of the fruition of my life's work. Not to mention the fact that they've put me through incredible pain, cost my loved ones unimaginable anguish, and tried—albeit unsuccessfully—to tear down the Republic that I've given so much to try and build. I meant what I said; that we should both go and see what we can find out."

"Out of the question," Han insisted, sitting up and shaking his head. He glowered at her for a moment and then stood up. Leia followed him, unhooking her IV tube as she scooted to his side of the bed where she stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. Her anger at the situation and sheer annoyance at his refusal to consider including her in his plans seemed to be propping her up and she had no pain nor weakness as she stood and faced him.

"Why?" she asked, looking him in the eyes. "Why is it out of the question, Han?" He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Look at yourself!" he exclaimed by way of an answer. "You've got a pair of holes in your front and a slice up your back and a tube in your arm," he explained. "You are in no condition to do anything but lie there and get better; which is what you should be doing, Leia. What makes you think that you would do anybody any good out in deep space?"

"So what you're saying is that you don't trust my judgment," Leia surmised, her voice beginning to rise. "You don't think that I know what I am and am not capable of?"

"Judgment aside, highness," Han spat back, "Maybe you're capable right now. Maybe even with that kriffing tube in your arm you're plenty capable of whatever you want to do. But one wrong move; one minor failure in the _Falcon_ 's inertial compensators and suddenly you're bleeding from three places and you're dead before I can get us to help. I will not…" His breath caught in his throat and he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand before continuing. "Leia," he sighed, "I can't…" Han let his chin fall to his chest and leaned backward against the wall; he couldn't keep going.

Leia shook her head and closed the distance between them. Every iota of anger within her dissipated at that. He was being unreasonable, but it was coming from a place of love and fear for her. She did have to remember that only four nights ago he'd thought she was dead. "I'm all right, Han," she assured him, placing her hands on his chest as she leaned her head against his heart. He enfolded her in his arms, squeezing her around her shoulders and burying his face in her hair.

"I'm just scared, Leia," he admitted, petting her hair with one hand and holding tightly to her with the other. "They told me you were dead," he added, allowing a sob to escape. Leia could feel his hot tears falling onto the crown of her head.

"I'm right here," she assured him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I can't lose you," he sobbed, holding to her even tighter.

"I'm not going anywhere without you," she said. "We're in this together." Han took in a deep breath and nodded.

"You and me, Princess," he agreed, moving his hands to her face. Leia looked up at him and smiled as reassuringly as she could before standing on tip toes to kiss him. She pressed herself against his skin as she let her lips explain to his how together she felt they should be. Leia pulled away from him slightly when the kiss broke.

"Come back to bed," she implored him, her hands on his waist and her lips curled into a small smile. She was not at all convinced that anything had been accomplished in that exchange. Han still wanted to go to the Tingel Arm, and Leia was not really sure she could blame him for it. She still didn't want him to go off angry and half-cocked to blast a hole in whatever part of the galaxy might mean to do her harm.

But that was the way Han operated.

And she loved him for it.

There were very few people he truly cared for in this life, but he would do anything to see to the safety and happiness of those he thought of as his own. Leia was well aware that this conversation was not even close to over. She just hoped they'd had enough of discussing this for tonight. And she hoped that eventually he would see reason and decide that it would be better for them to make the journey together. She angled her head toward his and placed a tiny kiss on his chin. "Please," she added to her earlier request.

"Love to," he answered, taking her hands in his and walking with her back to the edge of the mattress. Han helped Leia back onto the bed and, reconnecting the tube to the port in her arm, before coming around to slide beneath the covers beside her. Gently, he snaked his arms wrapped around her waist. "Is this okay?" he asked, holding her to him once both their heads were settled on her pillows.

"Mm-hmm," she answered, nodding as her voice sounded.

"Nothing hurts?" he asked, leaning in to kiss her neck.

"Nothing hurts," she affirmed, surprised within herself that she was telling the truth about that. Han leaned in further and kissed her again.


	12. Chapter 12

Bacta treatments were, for the most part, given under heavy sedation. Leia had always guessed that this practice was chiefly in order to avoid the possibility of asphyxia-phobic patients doing damage to themselves or equipment were they to panic. It turned out that the anesthesia was necessary because bacta treatments _hurt._

The stinging and burning of the bacta working on her wounds was enough to make Leia grimace. Today was her third cycle and luckily, the therapy hurt a little less every time. Not that this particular setup would ever be altogether comfortable.

The unit that Dr. Sawyer had been able to procure was not designed to for use in quite the way they had needed to use it. It was an older unit; a bulky cylinder that opened lengthwise on a hinge—for the purpose of locking it in place around a wounded appendage. The thing was of the largest variety, designed originally for use on a Wookiee or Gammorean or similar, and was only just large enough to fully encircle Leia's torso from her ribcage to her hip bones. But it wasn't designed for use on a human torso; the result was such an ill fit that Han and Lusiil had wedged pillows beneath Leia's left side to keep her balanced on the chaise. The seals didn't work quite right in this configuration, and by the end of the treatment the pillows were inevitably damp—making the whole apparatus even more uncomfortable than it had been at the outset.

Han had taken to sitting behind Leia, letting her lean her shoulders against him. Being more-or-less upright, but without the need to support herself, seemed to be the least miserable position they'd found for her. She'd discovered the day of the first treatment that wearing one of Han's shirts tied above the cylinder and keeping a blanket draped across her lower half was the best she could do for modesty and for warmth. It wasn't the worst medical indignity she'd ever suffered. And it wasn't like Han had never seen her in her basics before.

The day of the first treatment, when the stinging and burning of the bacta at work had been at its most exquisite, Han had taken her hand and started to talk. He'd done this before, when the medic on Endor had needed to debride her blaster wound and hadn't had the proper anesthetic, and it had worked then. It was working now. His voice was a good distraction—much better than the spotty coverage of the Charter Summit they had turned on the Holonet receiver. They'd made that their strategy from then on.

Lusiil would help fasten Leia into the cylinder while Han did his best to construct the proper stack of pillows to support her from both sides. He'd then take up his place behind her, and Lusiil would help Leia recline as best she could before flipping the switch to pump the bacta from its storage jerrycan into the treatment cylinder.

It hadn't taken Lusiil long to decide to excuse herself. Leia's face was all screwed up in pain and, no matter what nursing skills their hostess possessed, she could see pretty quickly that Han knew best how to soothe their patient under these circumstances. With an assurance that she'd be back in an hour to release the valve and drain the cylinder, she left the two of them alone.

Han squeezed Leia's fingers and told her the tallest, most impossible tales of his smuggling prowess—only exaggerating his own accomplishments once in a while, and only when he hoped it might make her laugh a little. He didn't dare talk about serious things during her treatments—no matter how tempted he might have been to start daydreaming about their future together, and no matter how much they were both still stewing over the still-unanswered question of a trip to Kobok space.

Mostly he told stories and made jokes. He did what he could to keep talking—to give her his voice to focus on. He never asked questions, never tried to get her to engage. He was as soothing as he knew how to be.

And Leia loved him for it. There were so many things he could have taken that opportunity to discuss… it wasn't often he had her in a position when she was so unlikely to interrupt. She was happy to tune out of her body's distress and focus on the soothing baritone of his voice; delighting in the slightly-unbelievable tales he told.

Han and Chewie were only _just about_ to get away with their well-won cargo when Lusiil came through the door. Han checked the chrono in the corner of the HNN Broadcast; either his timing was way off today or she was back early.

She was back early.

"Everything okay?" he asked, before Leia had a chance to. Lusiil nodded once, definitively, and took a seat on the swivel chair opposite the chaise.

"It will be," she replied. Leia frowned and turned her head. Han squeezed her hand.

He had a bad feeling about this.

"What is it?" Leia asked, her voice strained.

"It's been three days, Lusiil replied, "and there's been no word from the cell on Morishim. There is every reason to believe they've been compromised or disbanded. If we are to get information we need from Kobothi space, we will need to do it ourselves. Captain Solo," she said then, clasping her hands in front of her and squaring her shoulders, "would you agree to be our pilot?"

"Yeah," Han said. He felt Leia squeeze his hand and hoped he wasn't about to make her mad. "I can leave tonight if you want."

"It will be late tomorrow before we can secure a ship," she replied.

"I have a ship."

"We took your ship."

"You…what?" Han was incredulous. He wasn't sure he even believed her claim. But this was the woman who'd had him drugged and kidnapped, and an organization that had somehow convinced the entire galaxy that a beloved public figure was dead when she wasn't—so he knew better than to underestimate her. "There was a Wookiee on my ship!" he insisted.

"Not during the funeral," Lusiil answered quietly. It was all Han could do not to jump up and start to pace. It was only the pressure of his beloved's head against his shoulder and the firm grip of her hand in his that kept him where he was.

"So, you…" Han was trying to wrap his mind around Lusiil's claim.

"We took your ship," she repeated. "The Senator wanted to see you," Lusiil explained then, standing from her seat and crossing to the foot of the chaise to begin the process of draining the bacta from the cylinder back through the filter and into the storage can. "When you weren't on the dais during the funerary procession and we subsequently learned you were no longer under house arrest, we saw a chance and we took it. How else do you think you could be here, AWOL, with no one out looking for you?"

"You took me and my ship at the same time," Han surmised. Lusiil nodded. "You made it look like I ran away to be alone with my grief."

"We did," she replied. "and it worked."

"You stole my ship!"

"You'll get it back," Lusiil assured him. "But not until we've returned from the Tingel Arm. The ship we have in mind is a former ambulance," she explained, "with a full-immersion bacta system and an attendant droid built in. We'll be able to treat the Senator's injuries properly."

"You'll wake me up when we get there?" Leia interrupted.

"We will," Lusiil answered. "From what I've been told, she's an older craft. It'll be several days' trip. And rom what I understand from Dr. Sawyer, that will be adequate time for the Senator's wounds to be adequately treated."

Han couldn't help himself but smile. "Did ya hear that, sweetheart?" he asked, leaning his head down to rest his cheek against the top of Leia's head. "No more worrying about scars or unexpected internal bleeding. You're gonna be ok." He felt his eyes getting misty as he said that. Lusiil had confided in him just after Leia's first bacta treatment that bringing in the cylinder had been a desperate measure on their part. Leia wasn't getting better, at least not at the rate she should have been. So the fact that she'd now be getting the appropriate prescribed treatment was the best possible news.

"And did you hear the part where I get to make the trip with you," she teased back.

"Yeah, well," he replied, jiggling her fingers in the hand he still held, "I ain't gonna argue since we're going via ambulance."

"Write this down, Lusiil," Leia kidded, "Han Solo has decided not to argue." Lusiil chuckled lightly as she shook her head.

"I am gonna want to take a look at that ship before I agree to fly it into possibly hostile space," Han piped up, "especially if her highnessness is gonna be aboard."

"I'll see what I can do," Lusiil replied, capping off the now-filled jerrycan on the floor at Leia's feet and moving to unclasp the hinges that kept the cylinder sealed, "but I can't promise anything. Time is of the essence here. If we're able to uncover anything in Kobothi space, then we'll want to be back to Coruscant in time for the close of the Summit. Our evidence does little good if the perpetrators are beyond the reach of Republic justice by the time we're able to present it."

Han frowned, but he understood her point. He helped Leia up to a sitting position and kept her steady as Lusiil opened the bacta cylinder and removed it from around her torso. Han tossed the damp pillows onto the floor alongside the apparatus and then scooted closer, so Leia could lean against him if she chose while still remaining upright.

Leia did no such thing.

With the kind of deep breath Han recognized as a show of resolve, Leia slid her legs over the edge of the chaise. She let Han's shirt fall loose around her middle and kept the blanket secured across her lap as it followed her legs over the side, effectively covering her from her waist to her toes. She sat ramrod straight, with her hands folded in her lap, and looked back and forth between Han and Lusiil.

"Can you get me data?" she asked. "As much as I tried to familiarize myself with all the species and cultures who accepted our invitation to the Charter Summit, there were so many—I have to admit I'm no real expert on Kobothi customs or civilization. I'd like to know what we're looking at when we get there. And since I won't be able to spend the outbound trip doing the research, I'd like to learn as much as I can before we leave."

Han shook his head. That didn't take long. Leia had somehow managed to turn her four-day, life-saving stint in a bacta tank into a political inconvenience. But if that's how she wanted to frame it, he wasn't going to try and tell her otherwise. He was afraid she was about to start lobbying for a shorter treatment cycle; that he would fight her on. But if she was willing to accept what was best for her health during the trip, he didn't much care what she did in the interim.

"I should be able to provide that," Lusiil replied. "If you'll rest now," she added, "I can go and see what we have available on the Koboks and the space they inhabit."

Leia took another deep breath and stood up, letting the blanket fall to the floor at her feet. Han's shirt hung nearly to her knees when standing; conspiring with the pair of simple braids on either side of her head and her already-slight frame diminished by illness to make her look unsettlingly childlike. But her bearing in that moment was every bit that of Princess, warrior, and political leader.

"I find your terms to be acceptable," she said, stepping over the blanket where it had pooled on the floor. Han couldn't help but smile behind her back. He'd never known anyone else who could do that—who could take charge of a room no matter what the external circumstances. This woman was a force of nature. Han stood and followed her as she made her way back toward her bedroom.

Careful not to imply that she was anything less than fully capable of doing things herself, Han helped Leia into the bed and under the covers. As much as it was helping her wounds, the treatments took a lot out of her in other ways. She'd made a habit of sleeping for a few hours after each one. He reconnected the IV tube to the port in her arm and tucked her in tightly.

"You're really somethin', Princess," he whispered in her ear before kissing her temple and turning to go.

"You're not so bad yourself, flyboy," she answered, suppressing a yawn. "Thank you for not challenging my part in this."

"Thank you for not trying to negotiate your treatment plan."

"We're getting pretty good at this whole 'working together' thing, eh hotshot?"

"Sure are, sweetheart. I'm thinkin', when this is all over and done with, maybe we can talk about making it a long-term plan."

"I'd like that." This time Leia's yawn couldn't be suppressed. She closed her eyes and nestled deeper into the covers.

"Sweet dreams, princess," he wished her as he crossed to the panel to put out the lights. He shut the door behind him when he came back into the day room, where he was surprised to see Lusiil waiting for him on the sofa.

"I meant what I said about the ship and the timeline," she told him frankly, before he had even the chance to speak. "It's likely to be tomorrow before we have the craft in our possession. Four days out and four days back—at least—puts us very close to running out of time to present any evidence we uncover before the Summit adjourns and the attackers have left the jurisdiction. And if that were all that's at stake, I still might consider your request to look over the ship before you agree to fly it. But you and I both know it's not."

Han nodded. It was the invisible bantha in the room and he didn't want to talk about it, but he was pretty sure he knew what she was alluding to.

"Yeah," he said, sinking into a nearby chair and looking Lusiil in the eye.

"I'm not sure if Dr. Sawyer has made you fully aware of his concerns about the Senator's recovery. He is very concerned that the internal damage isn't healing. As am I."

Han nodded again. Lusiil had said a few things to that effect when the bacta cylinder had first been brought in, but he'd done a good job since then of focusing on the fact that Leia was being treated, and had made a point not to ask too many questions that might have unsettling answers.

"I think it's best that we agree to get the Senator aboard the ambulance and into treatment as soon as possible," she said then, crossing her arms over her chest. "Everything else about this trip is secondary. You'll have plenty of time to assess the ship and her capabilities on the way to the Tingel Arm. And if you find it wanting in any way, if you're uncomfortable moving forward, then I will respect that. I'm willing to abort the mission on your order, General," she said, emphasizing his rank in a way he'd never heard her do. "And I'll do so without argument. But I ask that you please take the helm at the earliest possible opportunity. The sooner we get Senator Organa in a proper bacta facility, the better we'll all sleep."

"Yeah," Han said again. "Let's do that. We'll head for that ship of yours just as soon as you've got it fueled and stocked. Hell, even before then as long as the bacta's aboard. The sooner we get Leia seen to, the better," he agreed.

"I'm not surprised," Lusiil said as she stood from the sofa and took a step toward the door. "I was almost certain we'd see eye to eye on this. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to fetch diplomatic dossiers on the Kobok people. The sooner the Senator has them, the sooner she's through them. The last thing we want is for her to try and put off treatment—even for a few hours—in order to finish her preparations."

"That sounds like Leia, all right," Han replied. "And you're right: we can't have that. And I don't want to fight with her about it."

"I'll handle it," Lusiil assured him. "It won't come to that. I'd advise you to get some rest," she told him, palming the switch to open the door, "it may be a busy and uncomfortable several days."

Han considered her remarks as he watched the door close. He probably could do with a nap. He turned his head then toward the door to the bedroom, wondering if Leia was asleep yet, and decided he'd wait five minutes and then go in.

Sleep he could find in fits and starts. He had plenty of experience with that. But a shower was something he'd likely not see again for a while.


	13. Chapter 13

Han had been mentally unprepared for how frenzied the next day and a half had been.

It turned out, getting an old ambulance kitted out for an eight-day trek through hyperspace was no small feat. Add to that what appeared to be a looming bacta shortage, and his anxiety level had been through the roof the whole time.

He had to hand it to Lusiil, though. Every time she left the bunker, she returned with just enough new data on their destination to keep Leia occupied—and not asking what she could be doing to help. Han was perfectly content to have her reading in bed with her IVs securely connected rather than getting up and trying to help with the packing up of the bacta can, the crates of bandages and salve, or the tins of additional medication that were stored beneath the dispensing unit at her bedside.

She'd decided her part in this was to be the expert on Koboks. Seeing as her primary role within the New Republic thus far had been that of a diplomat, it made perfect sense. And as long as it kept her highness sitting still while he and Lusiil did the heavy lifting, then he had no problem with her taking charge of the mission's intelligence needs.

The only difficulty of the royal variety he'd had while prepping to leave for Kobok space had been right as they were about to head out the door. Han had presumed Leia would be making her way topside in the repulsor chair, but she had insisted the device wasn't necessary. Not knowing just how far they would have to travel before reaching their ship in its berth, Han had argued it was much better to be safe than sorry. The whole episode had devolved in to an argument over _since when had he been the kind of guy to play it safe_ and _how come she always put her pride over her health_ and _which one of us was it who ran off into the night on a tauntaun to rescue Luke with neither proper gear nor backup._ It had only been called off when Lusiil had interjected that neither the lift they'd be taking nor the ambulance itself had room to accommodate the repulsor chair.

Leia had been smugly satisfied to have won the argument for all intents and purposes. Han had decided he didn't really care. Listening to Lusiil's description, the lift wasn't far, and the ship was berthed practically at its upper doors. The precaution he was trying to take was all but unnecessary considering the brevity of their travel. But more than that, there was something soothing about having had it out with Leia.

Squabbling with her was home for him. The two of them had always bickered and sniped, quarreled and needled each other. It had been good natured teasing—mostly—and over the years had become almost a form of foreplay between them. Even knowing how precarious her health still was at the moment, the fact she was well enough to argue with him now was a salve on his nerves—still frayed as they were from how close he'd come to losing her. He was happy to be there.

And it was probably better things turned out as they did, he figured. His worries were allayed, and Leia still got to feel like she won the argument. They both got what they wanted. And Lusiil saw to it that she was able to carry the last load of gear out herself, leaving Han to pay attention only to Leia on the way to the waiting spacecraft. He'd decided to let her walk all on her own but was pleased when she'd chosen to take his hand as they made their way out of the bunker.

The corridors and passageways at the level of the city where the bunker was located were narrow and dim, and Lusiil hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said there would be no room in the lift for a repulsor chair. There was scarcely room for the three of them and the small load of gear they had along. But she'd also been accurate when she'd said it wasn't far. It had been less than a ten-minute walk to reach the lift.

The long ride up took nearly as long as the short walk had, and neither Han nor Leia were surprised when they alit onto a surface-level landing platform. Their ship was easily identifiable on the pad; it was the only craft in the place with any sign of a working power plant. Han suddenly had a rush of concern about whether or not it was safe to trust this thing to take them all the way to the Tingel Arm. But he remembered Lusiil's promise that he could pull the plug on the trip any time he saw fit. He chose to concentrate on that as he helped Leia up the boarding stairs.

He could get her settled and then have a look around the ship. If he wasn't comfortable, they could find some safe harbor somewhere and wait out Leia's bacta treatment. Making her well was his first priority. Getting to the bottom of who had done this to her in the first place was important to him, but not nearly as important as her recovery.

She'd resisted a little at first, trying to charm Han into letting her wait to start the treatment until after they were in hyperspace by saying things about how she missed flying with him. But When Dr. Sawyer greeted them in the old ship's treatment bay, explaining that he had come to get Leia set up in the tank but that he wouldn't be making the trip with the others, Leia had relented.

Han stayed with her while the sedative took effect. It was quick-acting, but a milder drug than was usually put to use for bacta treatments. While Dr. sawyer and the FX-7 droid that would be monitoring Leia during the trip worked to finish prepping and loading her into the tank, the doctor explained what the crew would need to know to look after their patient.

"Her body is likely too weak for the usual drug," he'd shared. "But this one should do to keep her under for the few days she needs. FX-7 will monitor her vitals, as will the port sensor that's still connected to her arm. If anything becomes concerning," he'd told Han, "you may be called on to assist. But the droid should be able to handle her care until she's ready to be woken. She should be much stronger when this is done."

Han had done his best not to get choked up at the sight of Leia being lowered in to the bacta tank. The unit on the rig was much smaller than the ones he'd seen in downside hospitals and the rebel medical frigate. It was scarcely as tall as his waist, and Leia was curled up in a fetal position inside it. Unconscious and floating, she looked closer to death in that tank than he'd ever seen anybody look. Any soothing his constitution had gotten from their light-hearted tiff, any boost in his mood from her no-nonsense-yet-cooperative attitude of the past day left him the moment he saw her in the tank.

 _She should be much stronger when this is done_.

He hung his hopes and his heart on that remark as he bid Dr. Sawyer adieu and made his way into the transport's cockpit.

The ship was old: maybe a hundred years pre-Clone Wars. It wasn't particularly large, about half again the size of the _Falcon_ , but was much roomier on the inside. The cockpit was dated, but simple and standard—nothing he didn't recognize or couldn't handle. There was a small crew area with a work station and galley and a narrow bunk built in to the bulkhead above.

But most of the ship's interior was devoted to its treatment bay. It was large and oval-shaped, with a derelict display table taking up its center. Generous bunks were built in to the curved walls with monitoring stations above and lockers below. There was room in back for four tanks the size of the one treating Leia—there were connections for two abreast and two high—but only the one seemed to be loaded for the trip. It made sense, Han figured, for an ambulance crew to be able to transfer patients from their care into a medical facility while still under immersion. Those modular, plug-and-play bacta units had probably been a lifesaving innovation at some point. He only hoped the one they had would do its job in that vein.

She wasn't a pleasure ship, but the treatment bay seemed to be in working order. As long as Han found the nav controls, the power plant, and the hyperdrive in similar trim, this was going to work out just fine.


	14. Chapter 14

Shaking down the old ambulance had been an exercise in frustration. At least takeoff clearance hadn't been any trouble; Lusiil and her associates had made all the arrangements ahead of time. Han didn't even need to com into control—which was no small feat when coming or going from a planet as busy as Coruscant. His best guess was that the inbound leg would have more difficulties in that vein.

The ship handled well in atmosphere, its old thrusters were surprisingly responsive, and its dampeners were some of the best he'd handled. Then again, he figured that a craft designed to ferry critical patients ought to be thusly nimble, regardless of its age. The power plant seemed a little sketchy, with multiple systems tending to flicker and brown out with no discernable cause. This concerned Han a great deal to begin with— until he 'd done the requisite poking to assure himself that there was a discreet system governing the medical apparatus in the treatment bay and that none of these electrical anomalies would have any effect on the machines delivering oxygen or nutrients to Leia in the bacta tank.

He didn't like going back there. But he made himself do it. He'd promised, just as the sedative was taking over, that he'd look after her. And he meant to keep his promises where Leia was concerned. He understood the argument for the weaker sedative Dr. Sawyer had chosen, but he was terrified of the possibility of her waking up in the cramped tank. Naked but for her basics, the lacy ones she'd worn to the banquet, her curled-up body looked like a preserved specimen. He hated it.

Han was counting the days until he could fish her out of that tank and hold her again.

More than that, he was having to count the hyperspace jumps.

This old ambulance hadn't originally been built with hyperspace travel capability. It had only been retrofitted with a hyperdrive module some time during the Clone Wars. Han's best guess was that it had been installed so that the craft could fetch battle wounded from far afield and get them to medical installations in the Core with due haste.

The navicomputer was old, and it was slow, and it wasn't particularly accurate. Han was afraid if he left them in hyperspace for more than a few hours, they'd emerge so far off course it could seriously foul their plans. Six hours at a time was about all he could trust the old contraption with. So he'd made that his routine. Every six hours, he'd revert the ship to realspace, triangulate their exact position, set the navicomputer to calculating a jump that would put them six hours closer to their destination in the Tingel Arm, and engage the hyperdrive again.

The rest of the time he mostly spent tinkering with one or another of the ship's wear-worm systems. Because sitting still beside Leia in the bacta tank was driving him out of his head. Lusiil did her best to be kind, answering his questions about the numbers on the readouts from Leia's monitoring. He learned what the proper range was for her pulse and her respirations, what numbers on the pressure gauges were good and which were concerning—values that all were different for a patient suspended in bacta than for a person healing in the open.

Lusiil also made sure the bacta filters were operating properly.

"There's a shortage looming on Coruscant," she explained to him, "the Empire is cutting off the bacta supply to the New Republic." There wasn't any more where this tank full had come from. It had to stay as close to pristine as they could keep it for the four days transit or else they ran the risk of making Leia sicker than she already was. Han came to appreciate his crewmate's fastidiousness.

And he also appreciated her help when the ship needed minding. More than once, as they'd come out of hyperspace, the old ambulance had thrown up some alert or another, resulting in the need for a copilot. Lusiil had performed admirably on all those occasions.

But mostly, Han and his shipmate made a point to keep out of each other's way. Sharing such close quarters with a near stranger for four days and nights could be trying, especially under already tense circumstances. Han was sure they both appreciated that. And he was also sure they were both aware of how critical their cooperation was to both Leia's survival and the possible survival of the New Republic.

They did what they could to give each other a wide berth.

Halfway through the fourth day, Han felt his heart leap into his throat at the sound of an alarm from the unit monitoring Leia's vital signs. He sprinted from his seat in the cockpit toward the aft treatment bay, terrified that something was going wrong they weren't set up to handle. He was only slightly relieved when he saw Lusiil and the ship's droid already engaged with the bacta tank.

It was draining. The lid was off and the FX-7 had three of its arms extended into the tank, working with Leia's IV tube and her breathing apparatus.

"What's going on?" Han asked, trying his best to keep his voice steady as he watched the proceedings around the tank closely. He was fidgeting. Sweat was beading up on the back of his neck and he couldn't seem to figure out what to do with his hands. Lusiil looked up and smiled.

"It's finished," she said quietly. It took Han a moment to catch on to what she meant. But as the droid continued its business and the tank, he realized what was happening.

"She's…" he started to ask. He didn't like Lusiil's use of the word 'finished' just then.

"The treatment cycle has finished," Lusiil cut him off.

"So she's gonna be okay?"

"We won't know how well it's worked for some time now," Lusiil answered as the FX-7 finished its work disconnecting Leia from the tubes and wires tethering her to the tank. "The truth is she'd have been much better off having this treatment two weeks ago—so we need to see how much better late is than never in this circumstance. But we're through for now."

The tank had finished draining, leaving Leia curled on her side on its floor. A slatted platform rose out of it then, bringing her more than halfway to the top, within easy arm's reach. Han didn't wait for an invitation. He'd spotted a towel folded over the side of one of the treatment bunks, and he grabbed it on his way to the tank. Unfolding the towel, he reached down and gathered Leia up, wrapping her in the soft fabricl as he pulled her out of the tank and into his arms.

"is she breathing?" Lusiil asked. Han wasn't sure whether he was more surprised at the question or at how casually she'd asked it. He bent his face toward Leia's, holding his own breath as he waited to feel hers.

"Yes," he answered after a moment, relief clear in his voice as he carried Leia toward the bunk where he'd found the towel. But when he got there, he was loathe to put her down. He cradled Leia to his chest; she was limp and unconscious, but warm and alive, and that's all that mattered to him.

Stars, how he loved her….

Wrapping Leia tighter in the towel, he lowered her slowly onto the bunk. As he carefully placed her head on the pillow, Leia's lashes began to flutter.

"Where are we?" her hoarse voice whispered.

Han wasn't sure what magnitude of question that was. How much did she remember about what had happened and where they were headed?

"Are we to the Tingel Arm?" she asked then.

Han grinned down at her. Of course she remembered. This girl's mind was like a steel trap, there was no way four days in a bacta tank under heavy sedation was going to addle her.

"Not yet, sweetheart," he answered softly. He was bent down over her, stroking her face with the backs of his fingers. "A few more hours," he said, "you've got time to rest. Sleep off the sedative." Leia opened her eyes a little and nodded. "How're you feeling?" he asked.

"Not sure," she whispered. "What does it look like?" she asked then. Han shook his head. He hadn't thought to pay a lot of attention to how her wounds had healed. All that mattered to him was that she was alive and breathing and back in his arms. He stood up a little and gingerly moved the towel from around her middle.

"Pink," he answered. What had been two still-open, angry-looking wounds in Leia's torso were now shiny spots of still healing new skin. "You're gonna be all right, sweetheart," he assured her, bending down to kiss her lightly on her forehead. He tucked the towel back around her tightly. "Now get some sleep. I promise to wake you in time to be up when we arrive."

"Okay," she replied.

"Okay," he affirmed. And then he added, "I love you," because it felt like too long since she'd heard it from him.

Leia's eyes were already closed, but she smiled at the sound of that and whispered back.

"I know."


	15. Chapter 15

With less than half an hour until they would drop out of hyperspace in Kobok territory, Han decided it was finally time to wake Leia. He'd left her to sleep off the sedative, biding his time until their approach tinkering with the ambulance's rudimentary sensor array. He wasn't sure what he expected to find when they reached Kobothi space, but he was sure he wanted to get a better look at it than the ship's native sensors would have allowed.

He wasn't sure what exactly he was preparing for, but he wanted to be prepared all the same.

Lusiil was setting up holorecorders attached to Han's upgraded sensor grid. If they came across anything they could use as evidence, they'd have it recorded. But Han had no idea what that might look like.

The three of them were going to have to come up with a plan—together. And for that, he needed Leia awake and alert. He wasn't sure they'd given her enough time to sleep off the bacta, but he'd promised to wake her in time to be with them in the cockpit when they arrived in the Tingel Arm.

He couldn't decide whether or not he was surprised to find her up and dressed already when he reached the treatment bay.

"You're late," she greeted him with a smirk. Han shook his head and chuckled under his breath. Four days in bacta had left her a little pale and wrinkly, but it had apparently done nothing to dampen her spirit. That sass was the sweetest thing he'd heard in weeks.

Leia was sitting on the bunk where he'd lain her just a few hours earlier, reclining against the bulkhead with a datapad in her hands. She'd managed to dress herself in the drab green linen tunic and tan suede leggings Lusiil had packed for her. Han had no idea where the clothes had come from, but they were more or less Leia's size, and she seemed to be comfortable enough in them. The soft brown boots she wore reminded Han of a pair she'd had on Yavin, and as much as he wasn't sure how well they fit, he at least appreciated they were to her taste. It was the closest to normal as he'd seen her looking since this whole ordeal began, and it made his heart happy to see.

"Well," he countered her teasing with a wink as he crossed his arms over his chest, "since it looks like you don't need me…." Han shrugged his shoulders and turned his back, feigning like he was about to leave the room.

"Stop!" she called out, setting down her datapad and scooting to sit on the edge of the bunk. "Come here."

Han turned back to face her, grinning from ear to ear. He closed the distance between them. Taking both of Leia's hands in his as soon as he was in range. "I'm here," he whispered, squeezing her fingers.

"I'm not very stead on my feet," she shared. "Mind if we walk together to the cockpit?"

"You promise to remember I'm the Captain when we get there?"

"If you promise to remember I still outrank you."

"Not so fast your Ambassadorness," Han replied. "I seem to recall someone being mustered out of the armed forces and into the Diplomatic service. Separation of powers, ya know?"

Leia narrowed her eyes at him but kept the playful smirk on her face.

"Just help me up, hotshot."

Han chuckled, but did as he was asked, allowing her to brace herself against him as she slid off the bunk and onto her feet. She wobbled a bit when her first hit the deck, but steadied herself quickly. Sure she had her footing, he let go of her hands and began to offer her his arm.

He caught himself then—frozen and unable to complete the gesture. He was gut punched by the memory of the last time she'd been on his arm. His palms began to sweat as the night of the banquet flashed before his eyes, punctuated by visions of that damnable holo in the corner of the funeral coverage—taken while they'd walked into the ballroom together.

Leia noticed his distress right away.

"You all right?" she asked.

Han shook his head and tried to play it off. The last thing she needed was to have him pile his trauma on top of hers. Maybe he would talk to her about this sometime, but she needed to be well first. Han slung his arm around Leia's shoulders and squeezed.

"Yeah, Sweetheart," he replied, "I'm good."

Leia was a bit unsteady as they headed to the cockpit; weeks of prolonged bed rest and four days floating in bacta had left her muscles weakened. Han did his best to support her while letting her do as much on her own as she wanted to. He'd learned a long time ago with Leia—years before anything romantic had developed between them—that there was only so much help she'd be willing to accept. Put one toe over that line, and she'd reject any assistance altogether, insisting she could do things all on her own and likely endangering her long-term recovery in the process. It had been an interesting balance to strike in the beginning, but over the years he'd come to understand how to follow her lead.

They walked together across the treatment bay, thought the abbreviated corridor, and into the ambulance's cramped cockpit, where Han helped Leia to lower herself into the folded-out jumpseat near the door.

"So what're we looking for?" he asked as he prepped the old ambulance to come out of hyperspace. The old unit wasn't only slower than modern drives, it also took more effort to engage and disengage. More than once on this trip he's wished he had Chewie with him, and now was definitely one of those times. Lusiil did what she could to copilot while working to get her cobbled-together holorecorders online and ready for whatever they were about to come across.

"I think it's a case of not knowing it until we see it," Leia replied.

"Great," Han grumbled.

"We'll come out of hyperspace," Leia said then, hoping that giving him some idea of the rough plan she was formulating would make him a little less nervous. She knew this whole thing had to have been hard on him—surely harder than he'd let on. If sharing what little plan she had in her head would make him feel better, then it wouldn't bother her to do so. "We'll see if anything looks unusual or out of place."

"You know that's probably not likely," Han offered.

"I know," Leia allowed. "And as long as everything looks good, we head for Koboth and see what we can find out about this Agva Thinh."

"You're not thinkin' you're about to run around Koboth lookin' for the guy who stabbed ya?" he challenged.

"That's the plan," she replied.

"Nuh-huh," Han countered. "An odd bunch of humans on an alien world is gonna stick out bad enough as it is. The last thing we need is your famous face drawing attention."

"We'll treat it like Mindor," Leia suggested. "And you're just as famous as I am these days."

"Mindor?" Lusiil asked.

"We had an entire customs crew believing we were actors in a semi-biographical holonovella. Some said I was the best Princess Leia impersonator they'd ever seen."

"Yeah, that might've worked," Han said, "if it hadn't been for that pretty face being on every segment of news every day for the last couple of weeks."

"All humans tend to look alike to insectoids," Leia reminded him, "Plus, the galaxy at large thinks the real Princess Leia is dead. I'll be fine."

Han shook his head and frowned. This clearly was not the tack to be taking with her. And any more reminders of her supposed demise weren't going to be met very warmly.

"Then how 'bout I point out how could barely get yourself to the cockpit just now," he said. "Now, I know better than to think there's anything you can't do, sweetheart, but…"

"Stop worrying," Leia insisted, fully aware that was much easier said than done—especially where Han was concerned. "If it comes to it, I can leave most of the groundwork to the two of you. I can stay here on the ship and record any evidence you find." Han reached over and squeezed Leia's hand. That was better. He wasn't about to risk her running around easily spotted on a possibly hostile planet if he could help it.

"Good idea, Princess," he said. Leia smiled back at him. It was obvious to her he was still worried. But at least he hadn't challenged the idea of trying to find the alleged perpetrator. They would take him into custody if they had the chance, bring him back and turn him over to New Republic authorities.

"Glad you approve, Captain," she said back, enough teasing in her voice to remind him of their earlier conversation concerning who out ranked whom. Han winked at her.

"All right," he said then, turning his attention back to the control console, "let's see what we can…."

His words stopped short mid-sentence. All three of the ship's inhabitants were agog at the site that met their eyes as they came into realspace in the Koboshi seector.

Just off their port bow, looming between their ship and Koboth, was an Imperial Super Star Destroyer.

"Stang," Han whispered.

Leia was silent—uncharacteristically so. Han and Lusiil both turned to look at her. Her face had blanched, her lower lip was trembling, and she was shaking her head slowly.

"Senator," Lusiil addressed Leia in a tone of voice he'd heard very few people take with the princess, "I'm going to insist that you head aft immediately. These first few hours out of prolonged bacta treatment can be terribly hard on your system. Your body can't take on the adrenaline it's producing without help—not this soon after emerging. Your blood pressure won't be able to normalize itself without the aid of medication. Please," she implored, "please go lie down and reconnect your intravenous line."

Han could tell Leia felt like something was off. It wasn't like her to be so compliant, but she answered only with a nod before slowly standing and moving to leave the cockpit.

Without consulting either of the two women, Han dialed in the coordinates to jump them right back out of the Tingel Arm. There was no way he was even going to consider heading for planetfall with a Super Star Destroyer in system. Even an ambulance was likely to be stopped or boarded, and Leia still had an active death warrant. They were getting out of there just as soon as that decrepit computer could make the calculation. He quickly brought the ship about, plotting the exit vector in his head as best he could.

He looked over at Lusiil and then gestured at the readiness display and the lever that would take the ship to hyperspace when the time came. Lusiil, pointed to the holorecorder and then nodded as he stood from his seat. As soon as the calculations were ready, and Lusiil was sure they had the holos they'd need, she could take them to hyperspace.

Han hurried out of the cockpit behind Leia; she'd needed his help to get up here and he wasn't about to leave her without assistance in getting back, especially not if what Lusiil had said about her blood pressure was even partly true. It turned out he needn't have worried. She'd managed to get her space legs quickly, and was already through the door of the treatment bay when he caught up to her.

"It just doesn't make any sense," she said, lowering herself to sit on the bunk and taking hold of the datapad she'd left there when they'd gone to the cockpit. "The Koboks are a historically isolationist people. We were thrilled when they accepted our invitation to the Charter Summit—at the last minute, I might add."

"Well now I think we know why," Han offered, reaching over to the IV tube where it hung and moving to connect it to the port still in Leia's arm. Her color was a little better already, but Lusiil had asked for the tube to be reconnected and so far she'd been right on when it came to the matter of Leia's treatments.

"I just don't know why they'd want to align themselves with the Empire _now_ ," she said.

"Looked to me like maybe they didn't have much of a choice," Han replied. "Somethin' tells me that Super Star Destroyer parked in their back yard might have had a lot to do with that decision."

"Maybe," Leia allowed, shaking her head. She took a deep breath as she felt the first dose from the IV beginning to take effect.

The ship jolted. Lights flickered and the ambient noise changed to include a disconcerting low rumble. Leia looked to Han. She trusted him where spacefaring vessels were concerned; if he wasn't bothered, she wouldn't be either.

"That's just the hyperdrive," he told her: an answer to a question she hadn't needed to ask.

"The hyperdrive? We're leaving? We're not even going to take a closer look?"

"Listen here, Princess death warrant," Han addressed her, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest, "We ain't gettin' a single click closer to that Super Star Destroyer. You wanna get this guy? So do I. So does Lusiil. And so does the New Republic. But an aging former spy, a field promoted General gone AWOL and a politician three hours out of a bacta tank ain't the team to catch him with. Lusiil got telemetry, and live holo footage. We'll take that back to Coruscant and see what we can do about comin' back here with reinforcements."

At least, Han figured that was the plan. He honestly didn't know. Lusiil had seemed to be in charge, and he hadn't really bothered to ask too many questions. As far as he'd been concerned, this whole trip was just an excuse to get Leia the treatment she needed. But now that was done, and it was time to shift his focus.

Leia was going to recover.

And now it was time to get the dastard who hurt her.


	16. Chapter 16

It was generally accepted that, following prolonged bacta immersion, a patient could expect to need at least a day's recovery time for every two days spent in the tank. Leia found this slow return to normalcy nothing less than thoroughly infuriating. It had always been her understanding that a person was well and healed at the conclusion of immersion treatment. No one had thought to explain to her that four days weightlessness coupled with her weeks of infirmity prior would lead to muscle atrophy and a decrease in her cardiovascular endurance. She also hadn't been prepared for how much trouble she'd have holding herself upright. Somehow the understanding that her wounds would be healed and new tissue grown had failed to incorporate the notion that new muscle requires conditioning in order to be strong, and therefore her core would be as weak as that of a newborn.

She was not having a good time of it.

She had taken to walking laps around the hulk of a display table in the treatment bay, using it for leverage to keep her upright and to lean against when she needed to catch her breath. She'd pause to eat or drink when the necessity struck her, or to participate in any discussions of planning or strategy that went on in the cockpit. Eventually she would tire enough to allow herself an hour's rest on her bunk, and Lusiil had more than once reminded her that she still required infusions of several of her intravenous medications if she expected to ever get fully well. She spent all of her sleeping hours and whatever time Lusiil could manage to wrangle her still hooked up to the medical apparatus. But the rest of her time was spent going at her self-imposed therapy regime.

Sometimes she'd let Han hold her hand as she counted out the circuits she'd decided she should complete before taking a rest. One, and then three, five, and then seven and then ten; then five again, and back down to one. Repeat. It was only after each full set that she could be convinced to sit or to lie down. Han didn't mind spending the time with her, and he didn't mind her wanting to get her strength back, but he was sure she was pushing herself too hard too fast.

And Han couldn't stand it.

But there was nothing he could do, and he knew it.

At least her spirits were mostly good. She'd lean her head against his arm, interlace her fingers with his, even hum sometimes as they strolled around and around the treatment bay. There were times when Han found the walking almost pleasant.

She was holding his hand, humming a song they'd listened to a hundred times on the way to Bespin—one they'd discovered (much to their mutual amusement) had been a favorite for both of them since childhood. She'd been swinging their coupled hands back and forth in time with the tune, when all at once she swung their arms behind them and spun around in front of Han, taking hold of him as though in a dance.

Han's whole body panicked at the posture. His mouth went dry and his palms got sweaty.

Leia stopped her humming. She squeezed the hand she was holding and brought her other hand to his face.

"What is it?" she asked. Han took a deep breath and shook his head.

"It's just the last time you danced with me…" his voice trailed off. But Leia got the message.

"I wasn't thinking," she apologized. They hadn't ever discussed the night of the banquet. All the focus had been on the present—on her recovery—Leia hadn't wanted to think about the trauma that had led them here. But she knew they needed to talk about it. Now that things were getting better, now that she was healing and they were well on their way to catching the perpetrator, it was high time they began to process what had happened. "I don't remember much," she shared.

Han wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him.

"I'm glad," he said, burying his face in her hair.

"We were dancing," she recalled, "and then… you know, I don't remember any pain? I remember losing my breath."

"I was holding you," he said back, "and I felt you go stiff and then all the color drained from your face. It took me a second to figure out what had happened."

"I remember feeling confused and lightheaded," she said. "And I was laying on the floor. And everybody had a weapon."

"Yeah," Han agreed, "just about."

"I was mad about that," she shared, squeezing him around his middle and shaking her head. "Everybody breaking the rules."

"I was mad about that, too," he said back, "but probably not for the same reason you were."

"Probably not," she chuckled.

"And then the medical team got there," he said, "and you'd passed out. They didn't want to let me come with you, but Lando passed me a blaster and,"

"You threatened the medical team at gunpoint?" she asked, incredulously, as she stepped out of his embrace and looked him in the eye. Han shrugged.

"Didn't have to," he replied. "It was enough that I had it. They let me come with you, but once we got to the medcenter…." Han's voice trailed off again. Still holding tightly to his hand, she pulled him around and headed toward her bunk in the far wall.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she said, "but if you're willing, I'd like to hear. I know this whole thing was hard on you. You've pretty much seen everything I've been through. I'd like to know what it was like for you." She led them across the bay to her bunk and sat down, gesturing for him to sit beside her and never letting go of his hand. That was a thing with Han—with most pilots in Leia's experience—he tended to open up more when they were sitting side-by-side. Something about the two of them facing the same direction, in the same configuration they would be in a cockpit, suited his disposition the best.

"There's not much to tell," he said, pulling their joined hands into his lap and taking hold with his other hand as well. "We got where we were going and they rushed you into surgery and they made me wait in this waiting room with a couple of Coruscant Security goons and I guess Lando went to get Chewie. And by the time they caught up to me at the medcenter, Mon Mothma was showing up with Rieekan and a bunch of other cops and they were tellin' me I was a suspect…. By the time somebody came and told us you'd made it out of surgery and what was going to happen next I was being told I was being confined to quarters and they wouldn't let me see you, and…." Leia leaned her head on his shoulder.

"And then they told you the lie," she presumed. Han nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "Heard it on HNN, actually."

"What?" Leia asked, sitting up straight all the sudden with a horrified expression on her face.

"I was under house arrest and they weren't allowing any visitors. Mon Mothma tried to beat the media—she tried. Lied to the guards on my door and snuck in to give me the news herself, but it was too late."

"I still can't believe anyone could ever think you were a suspect."

"You were stabbed at close range, and I was the closest," he said. "Mon Mothma said I was never a suspect in the New Republic's eyes, but the local authorities: they don't know a thing about me, or about us. Lusiil had it right, though."

"She did?" Leia asked. "What did she say about it?"

"I guess she saw some of the footage that eventually got me exonerated," he said, "she said nobody looking at a person the way I was looking at you could possibly mean that person any harm."

"I'll buy that," she said back. "I liked the way you looked at me that night." Han turned his head toward her and smiled.

"You looked amazing in that dress."

"It's a shame it got ruined. But there are dozens more where that one came from."

"More of the 'stretchable lining' kind?" he asked, bumping her shoulder with his. Leia chuckled.

"That I'm not sure of," she replied, "but I can look into having more made if you'd like."

He raised their joined hands to his lips and kissed the backs of her knuckles.

"I don't give a damn about dresses, Leia," he said. He let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her. "I thought I'd lost you, sweetheart. I had a look at my life without you and…."

"Try not to think about it," she interrupted. Leia scooted away from just far enough to be able to lay her head in his lap. "I'm not going anywhere," she assured him. "I'm right here."

Han reached out and pulled the IV tube from its hook, stealthily reattaching it to the port in Leia's arm as she lay across his lap.

Leia sighed and closed her eyes. She knew Han was feeling raw, and the least she could do was to placate his need to see her safe and still and doing what he thought best for her recovery.

Han, for his part, smiled down at her, happy to have her resting with him for the moment.

She was still so pale, and her appetite was next to nothing. Leia had contended that had Han been given his preference, she'd spend all day every day tucked into bed and never again see the halls of politics nor the fields of battle.

Han hadn't had much argument with that.

He did his best at moments like this—quiet moments when he could hold her, stroke her hair, or otherwise make her quietude about his need to be close to her—to keep her with him for as long as he could. But these times never lasted long. Leia wasn't built for stillness; she was built for action. Being out of action for this long was driving her to push herself harder than even the ship's otherwise-reticent FX-7 droid found palatable. The droid had set itself on low power mode the first day Leia had insisted on walking circuits around the treatment bay and it hadn't lit up again since. Han had hoped to have the droid for backup when he and Lusiil were insisting Leia not push herself so hard, but he'd come to learn that wasn't going to happen.

All Han had for contending with Leia's restlessness and near-obsession with speeding her rehabilitation was his expert level understanding of how Leia operated. If there were concerns about the galaxy at large, she was easily distracted from matters relating only to herself. Lucky for Solo's sanity, they had a pretty large matter to consider. And he'd done his best to draw out the discussions of such matters longer than they really needed to be; at least while they were plotting and planning, Leia was sitting still.

It hadn't taken the three of them long to decide that this wasn't the moment for Leia to reveal herself as alive and recovering. They needed to keep her survival quiet until they knew more about what was going on with the Koboks.

So it would fall to Han to take their evidence to Mon Mothma. The Chief Councilor could be let in on the secret of Leia's recovery, and she would be the most likely person to have an idea as to what ought to be done next. There was no move to be made without New Republic support; Han would need to convince Mon Mothma that their evidence was credible and should be acted upon. All three of them guessed bringing her to see Leia would be a good way to do that.

Han had been concerned at first that he would never make it to the Chief Councilor's office. He was AWOL from the New Republic military and more likely than not would be arrested the moment he tried to set foot on Coruscant. But he decided it didn't so much matter. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been in jail—and even in custody he'd be able to get his message through. One call to Chewie or Lando would be enough to keep the information flowing even if he personally wound up in the hoosegow for a couple of days.

It would be a small price to pay to catch Leia's would-be assassin.


	17. Chapter 17

Lusiil took control of the navicomputer headed into the last day inbound and rerouted the old ambulance to where she and her people had stored _The Millennium Falcon_. Han Solo returning to Coruscant aboard his own ship would be unlikely to raise any eyebrows, but Han Solo appearing on Coruscant without the old freighter just might make the news. And that was the last thing any of them wanted.

The plan was to get downside and get the datacards into Mon Mothma's hands with as little hullabaloo as possible. He'd get in to see her if he could, but if Summit business kept her out of the office, he'd been empowered to leave the datacards with her assistant droid and wait for her call. Leia seemed to be of the opinion her mentor would take any message from Han seriously, but Han wasn't so sure.

The last time the Chief Councilor had seen him, he'd been a blubbering mess in the day room of his quarters, bitter and angry over not having been included in funeral arrangements. He wasn't sure she'd be so keen to speak to him. But maybe Leia was right. She knew Mon Mothma better than he did, and if she said the message would be taken seriously, he was willing to act on that assumption.

And if she didn't… if she didn't call by nightfall, then he'd be back in her office with a second copy first thing in the morning, and he wouldn't be leaving again until he spoke to her in person.

That was the plan.

But first: _The Falcon._

Han had been amazed and annoyed back and forth in turns that The Quiet had managed to get aboard, and subsequently steal his ship. He'd had a fit at first, a stream of curses coming out of his mouth that had amazed even Leia—and she'd heard him go off plenty of times before. He'd been inclined to be furious with Chewie for leaving the ship unsecured, but Leia had been quick to remind him The Quiet had been responsible for kidnapping him in broad daylight and for removing her from the security of the Imperial Medcenter, replacing her with a droid replica of herself, and convincing the public at large that she was dead. They're having managed to steal _The Millennium Falcon_ was in no way Chewbacca's fault.

The orbital platform The Quiet had chosen to house the _Falcon_ looked to Han's eyes to be possibly as old as the organization itself. It was coming apart in places, the door mechanism had a hard time receiving the open codes, and not a glow rod in the place seemed to be working. Lusiil switched on the ambulance's landing beams, giving off just enough light for Han to see his way to the _Falcon_.

No matter the mechanism by which she'd gone missing, Han was thrilled and relieved to be seeing his ship again. His fingers were twitching as Lusiil piloted the old ambulance into the pitch-dark hangar bay. The platform small and it was dark—easily mistaken for space junk. It was as safe a place as any to hide a famous ship. But Han was still glad to have her back.

Armed with the datacards containing what evidence The Quiet had been able to collect on Coruscant, the holorecording they'd taken in Kobothi space, and the coordinates of the new safe house where he was to meet back up with Leia and Lusiil once the message had been delivered, Han kissed Leia goodbye and headed toward his ship.

The platform's artificial gravity wasn't what it should be, and it left Han feeling a little off-kilter as he made his way across the uneven metal deck. Although he had a feeling his unease came less from malfunctioning gravity and more from the idea of being apart from Leia. He knew in his head that Lusiil had taken care of Leia since she'd first been taken from the hospital. He knew she was out of danger, he knew she was getting stronger every day.

But knowing she would be all right and feeling okay about being separated from her were not the same thing.

He'd just have to focus on the task at hand. He'd get the datacard to Mon Mothma and get back to Leia as quickly as possible.

As the _Falcon_ warmed up, prepping for takeoff, Han fired off a message to Chewie. Better to do so while he was still out of range for a live call—there were too many questions he wasn't at liberty to answer. He wasn't even going to consider listening to the dozens of messages the unit was indicating had come in while the ship had been out of his hands. They were likely full of platitudes and pity, anyway—two things he had absolutely no time for. Chewie, though: Chewie deserved to know he was all right, at least.

"Hey pal," he spoke into the holorecorder, "I just wanted to let ya know I'm okay. I got some stuff goin' on—but I guess you figured that out. Things are gonna be okay, buddy. I'll be back in town soon. I got a lot to tell you when I can. Just… just stick with Lando 'til I call. See you soon."

He switched off the recorder and pressed the button to send the message. That was enough for now. Once they were through this whole thing, he'd explain it to Chewie—all of it. But the secrets he held in his jacket pocket weren't his to share openly just yet. All would come out in time, but first he had to get the datacard to Mon Mothma.

The flight to Coruscant was uneventful, although trying in the way that only handling a ship as temperamental and prone to malfunction as _The Millennium Falcon_ was all alone could be. He missed Chewie. But having to pull double duty helped keep his mind from wandering to Leia's health too often.

His re-entry permit for Coruscant was waiting for him when he arrived, and Han was leery as he made his way to the landing site Lusiil had directed him to. In case that permit had come from the New Republic Military, and not from The Quiet, and was there just to make him a little easier to arrest, Han took a long and circuitous route to the hangar bay.

The bay, situated one floor above the safe house where he'd be meeting Leia and Lusiil later on, was a couple hours' speeder trip from Imperial Center. Han figured that being this far out of town would help them in avoiding scrutiny, but still he wasn't a fan of the place. It was a tiny hangar, scarcely half again as wide as Falcon herself. It sat near the top of a tall spire, one of several rising from a squat duracrete base. Every other level, it appeared, was a landing bay of the same design as the one he'd come into, with the alternate levels housing apartments of the same size. It wasn't a luxury building, but his ship would be safe in this closed garage—away from prying eyes and able to remain there in secret for as long as he needed it to.

The safe house where Lusiil and Leia would be meeting him was on the floor below, and he wondered for a moment where they'd be landing in order to get there, seeing as the Falcon had nearly taken up the unit's entire assigned parking space.

That was just one of a thousand questions he'd have to ask about when this was all said and done.

Han made sure to lock his ship up tight before getting aboard the speeder Lusiil had told him would be there for his use. He wasn't sure what good it would do—The Quiet had stolen his ship before when she _wasn't_ berthed in their hangar, he doubted they'd have much trouble getting away with her again if they really wanted to. He just had to trust that the _Falcon_ would be safe where she was until he could get back here.

With datacards secured in his breast pocket, he set off toward Imperial Center.


	18. Chapter 18

Luke Skywalker had never felt more _wrong_ about anything in his life.

This whole thing was wrong.

But he didn't know how. And he didn't know why he felt so strongly.

He'd known…something. He'd felt it in The Force. He'd _felt_ it—whatever "it" was.

Something had happened to Leia. He was sure about that. He was sure because he'd felt it happen. She'd been in pain, and afraid, and then… and then there had been some sort of oblivion. He'd excused himself from the reception he'd been attending and done his best to get a message out, trying to find out what had happened. But the transitory mists were wreaking havoc, and he didn't think he'd managed to get through.

So he'd gone to meditate. But he'd learned nothing from his time immersed in The Force. Nothing seemed changed or new. Something had happened to Leia— something was very wrong; of that he was sure. But just what that was and how it affected her were answers The Force just wasn't going to provide.

Somehow he hadn't been surprised when Wedge had arrived days later with news of the attack at the banquet. That made sense. Leia's pain and fear: that's what he had felt. She'd been injured, and badly, and even across systems he'd known that.

The rest of his scheduled meetings with the Ducha and her court were compressed into a frenzied day and a half, and any meetings he'd managed to secure outside that inner tier of royalty had to be cancelled altogether. He and Wedge were preparing to leave when the dispatch had come over from Hapes informing them that Leia had succumbed to her injuries.

But that was wrong.

Luke had felt it as soon as the messenger had said so.

Leia couldn't be dead. She couldn't be!

He'd been present with Obi-Wan and with Master Yoda at the moment of their passing. And his sense of them in The Force had transitioned at the same time. But his sense of Leia remained unchanged.

Could it be their bond as twins was allowing him to feel her persistence in The Force even in death? Or was it a simple case of human denial not allowing him to accept that his sister was gone?

After a particularly trying transit through the mists, Luke engaged his X-wing's hyperdrive and put himself in to the deepest trance he could manage, only to emerge on approach to Coruscant with the same surety he'd left the Hapes cluster with: Leia couldn't be dead.

He also emerged to a series of message lights blinking on his display. The first was from Ackbar, letting him know he'd been placed bereavement leave by the New Republic Military and would remain so until he chose to report back for active duty.

This was good.

There was something going on here and Luke intended to get to the bottom of it. Having the freedom to do so without wondering if he'd be called to action was a boon.

The next message was from Mon Mothma. He was surprised at first to be hearing from the Chief Councilor herself but considering the circumstances maybe it wasn't that unusual. Her message had been one of condolence, and she'd made a point to let him know his wishes would be respected as to Leia's final arrangements—that he should contact her office as soon as he was able, so they could iron out details. Until then Leia's body would lie in state in the Senate Rotunda. Luke didn't like the idea of that: of his sister's body on display. But then again, he'd been inclined to try and see her from the beginning of this mess. If The Force was lying to him, or rather, letting him lie to himself, then maybe proper meditation in the presence of Leia's body would give him some real answers. At least this way he knew there wouldn't be anyone trying to stop him from getting close to her. If the public could view his sister in her casket, so could he.

As he steered his X-wing toward the landing pad adjacent the Senate building, Luke finished sorting through his messages. He'd wait and listen to most of them later. Kind words of condolence and sympathy from friends and colleagues could wait until after he'd taken a moment with Leia. He was surprised, though, that there wasn't any word from Han. It was only after he'd found and played a message from Lando that he understood why.

Han had been dancing with Leia when she was attacked. And the Corsucant Security Force officers in charge of the investigation had put him under house arrest as a suspect; he'd only been cleared the day of the first public memorial (Mon Mothma had mentioned plans for two) and had taken off in the _Falcon_ , AWOL. No one had heard from him since.

Luke resolved to zero in on the Han situation when he could—but not until he had some answers for himself. If Leia really was gone, he needed to process that before he could be there for his friend. But if his suspicions were correct, and Leia was alive, then he needed to have some way to prove it before he got in touch with Han. He could only imagine the amount of grief his friend was experiencing over this, and he wouldn't dare do anything that might upset him further.

Seeing his sister was the most important thing. That was his first stop. Whether it was The Force guiding him, or basic human curiosity, he wasn't sure, but he was sure that was where he was headed.

He'd planned to park his X-wing on the public platform adjacent to the rotunda. He was on leave from the military at the moment so he thought it better to use the civilian entrance rather than the government one. But the platform was full to overflowing, and a queue of beings spilled out the civilian entrance and along the adjacent wall. Luke wondered for a moment whether these doors were being used for gallery observers to the Charter Summit, but the Senate Chamber was on the far side of the complex from here and it made no sense that would-be audience members would be corralled all the way over here. It was only after settling for landing on the higher, restricted platform and passing through the official entrance onto a mezzanine that he understood the crowd outside.

They were here to see Leia. All of them. The same as he was.

Hundreds of beings, maybe thousands, were lined up outside the open doors of the rotunda. They conversed quietly amongst themselves, blotting teary eyes and patting shaking hands. The line snaked around stanchions, switching back on itself half a dozen times to accommodate as many as possible in the Rotunda's vestibule. Some of them carried flowers with them or small trinkets to add to the ever-growing memorial Luke could see had formed along the south wall adjacent to the line.

This was… overwhelming. The force of their grief was overwhelming. Luke had to center himself and put it out of his mind. He was here for a reason.

And if his hunch was right, he might be able to prove all their grief was misplaced.

One way or another, he'd have a resolution soon.

There was a tumult below. The doors to the Rotunda had been closed and the low roar from the crowd had become a much greater din. Luke frowned.

"What's going on?" he asked the attendant droid as he waited for a lift to take him from the mezzanine down onto the Rotunda floor.

"They're clearing the room for you now, sir," the droid replied.

"Oh." That was good. That was better. Apparently the attendant droids had been briefed on what to do when he arrived. He was glad he'd get a moment with Leia on his own.

The grief from the throngs of visitors was making him doubt himself again. Maybe Leia _had_ died. Maybe he was all wrong about this. He just needed to get close to her. And he was thankful, as he rode the lift down toward the entrance to the Senate Rotunda, that he was going to get to do so without a crowd of onlookers.

The Force would have answers.

And he would find them.


	19. Chapter 19

The Senate Rotunda was an odd building. As tall as it was wide, with a transparisteel-domed ceiling and semi-precious-stone-mosaic floor, it had been built at the center of the Senate complex in the days of the Old Republic as a crossroads between the Senate chamber, the committee work spaces, and the individual office suites. It had been designed from the beginning with a public entrance, so that citizens of the Republic might greet their representatives as they came and went throughout their daily business.

The public doors had remained locked throughout most of Palpatine's reign. The Galactic Empire hadn't been known for its openness or receptiveness. Which was why it had been re-opened as one of the first acts of the New Republic's having reclaimed Coruscant from the Empire. Today its great rose windows were bunted in black. A series of carpets had been fastened into a footpath, leading from the gilt double doors, through a velvet-roped cordon in the center of the room, and back out a set of slightly smaller doors on the other side.

And in the center, a cloisonné and transparisteel casket.

By the time Luke came into the room, through a service door away from the entry and exit points the public had been directed to, the Rotunda had been cleared for him. He was alone but for the rugs and the ropes, the bunting and the casket.

Leia's casket.

Luke took a deep breath and tried to center himself. He didn't want to reach into The Force too deeply, not yet. He was still a little shaken by the resonance of the crowd's sorrows and he needed to steel himself against letting it influence his impressions in this place. His sister was either dead or she wasn't. And he was about to find out for sure.

He didn't know how he was so certain he would find answers here, but he was. It was the same sort of surety with which he'd called out to Leia on Bespin—knowing she would come find him. That had been The Force, he knew, and perhaps that was what was leading him now. He took measured steps across the tile and onto the carpets. He ducked under one velvet rope and then another, and then another. He had to get close. The respectful distance the public had been asked to keep was all well and good, but this was his sister. He had to see her. He had to see her up close.

He placed his hand on the transparisteel canopy of the casket as he peered in to get the first glimpse of Leia's body. And there she was. He realized then that there had been some part of him that had been sure he'd take one look at her body and see there'd been a mistake. But it was her.

But how could that be?

Something in his gut was screaming _wrong! Wrong!_ But what? How?

He closed his eyes, placed both hands onto his sister's coffin, and reached out with his feelings.

It had been Obi-wan, on that first journey they'd taken aboard the _Falcon,_ who'd taught him to see with The Force instead of his eyes. And as much as his eyes were telling him this was Leia here in front of him, laid out peacefully in a white gossamer shroud, he could not shake his feeling that she was still alive. But how? Could it be his feelings were deceiving him? Could it be his own sense of Leia was so powerful based on their shared bloodline and the little bit of training he'd done with her in the ways of The Force that he could still feel her presence even after her spirit had departed her body?

It was all so confusing. He'd seen both Yoda and Obi-wan take their last breaths, and they had each taken their body with them when they'd become one with the Force. But they were both Jedi Masters, and Leia wasn't even a fully-fledged Jedi yet. Her leaving her body behind might not mean anything. But still, there was something very wrong here. He could feel it. He could feel it in the Force and in his body. There was a tingle, a near sizzle in his head. Something was about to come together; there was an answer here, if he could just quiet his mind enough, he might just find it.

And then, there it was: that answer he felt crackling at the edges of his consciousness. Luke pressed his hands against the transparisteel of the casket lid. He took a long look at his sister's serene, resting face, and closed his eyes. He reached out with his feelings – beyond himself and into The Force – he reached past his concern and his sadness, past the memory of the pain he'd experienced when Leia had been attacked. He reached into the present, into the reality of this room and this moment. And when he opened his eyes, he knew what he had to do.

He opened his eyes and reached for his lightsaber.

"If this is really you," he said softly to Leia, "then I'm sorry. But I think you'll understand."

He ignited his lightsaber and took a deep breath. He was either about to do something horrible or discover that his feelings about this whole thing had been right all along. Carefully, finding the seam where the transparisteel canopy connected to the low, metallic sides, he began to cut into the casket. There was a rush of air as he went—the thing had been vacuum-sealed. If this really was his sister's body he'd just invited a level of decay that those who had interred her here had meant to spare it.

But the more he cut, the more right he felt about it.

One circuit of the thing was enough. He'd split the casket's seal at the seam the full way around. In the places where the transparisteel had cooled from its contact with the saber, the slice was all but undetectable. He switched his lightsaber off and clipped it back onto the belt of his flight suit.

Using both hands for guidance, and relying on The Force for leverage and strength, he gently lifted the canopy from its base and set it on the rug behind him. He felt like a ghoul, reaching into a coffin this way, but he knew what he knew.

And he had to know for sure.

He took hold of Leia by her near shoulder, careful not to disturb the flowers that had been lain in the casket on either side of her. Her skin felt strange, her weight odd and limp in his hands. Luke realized he'd never touched a dead body before—except for on a battlefield—and then it had been for just a moment. That instant of checking to see whether a comrade was still with him, that was an altogether different experience from lifting his sister's cold body out of her coffin.

As carefully and as respectfully as possible, he tilted her body away from him until she was almost on her side. The white gauze-and-lace shroud she'd been dressed in was tied simply in the back, once at the neck, and again at the waist, and he tried not to think too hard about how ghastly his behavior would be judged by anyone who might accidentally walk in on him.

But he had some assurance—from somewhere—from The Force probably—that Leia would understand. She knew him better than anyone else left living and she would understand his need to be sure of what he was seeing. And he knew if their roles were reversed—if it was Luke who'd been presumed dead and Leia who'd needed to see proof for herself, he would forgive her any similar indignity.

The open back of her gown gave him an easy view of what he'd been seeking to check. With a sigh and a shake of his head, and no idea as to what he should do next, Luke arranged the body back to precisely the way he'd found it, replaced the canopy, and started toward the exit.

That wasn't his sister in that casket.

And he was going to get to the bottom of this.


	20. Chapter 20

Luke had _no idea_ what to do next.

He was sure that wasn't Leia's body in that casket. But there was very little else he was sure of at the moment. What did this mean? Who else was in on the secret of his sister's survival?

And most importantly: where was the real Leia? Was she all right? She had been attacked—not only had Luke felt it when it happened, but there had been literally hundreds of witnesses. Was she somewhere getting well? Or had she been taken by enemies and replaced by whoever that was in the coffin (he didn't want to think too hard about who that might be)?

His first instinct had been to try and call Han. But Han was missing; Lando's message had said he'd been unreachable. And if he could get a hold of Han, what would he say, anyway?

No. That wasn't his next move.

As the doors from the Rotunda closed behind him, Luke realized what his next move was. As fast as the flash of the idea had hit him, he was sure it was the right thing to do. He needed to speak with Mon Mothma.

The Chief Councilor's office was in this very complex, although on the far side. It would be at least a ten-minute walk to get there, but every step Luke took in that direction made him feel all the more confident in his decision. The Force was leading him to the Chief Councilor's office—he was sure of it. She'd said she wanted to speak with him about final arrangements. That was reason enough for him to be paying a call. But more than that: if anyone on Coruscant knew the truth, it would almost certainly be her. And if she didn't know anything…?

He'd seek those answers in The Force when the time came.

Luke charged across the inner courtyard, past the empty pedestal that had until recently been the base of one of the complex's many statues of Palpatine, through the Senate reception building, and past the temporary workspaces that had been set up for the comfort of Charter Summit delegates who didn't breathe oxygen. He made his way, respectfully but hastily, through the lobby of the main office building and to the lift that would take him to the upper floors where the New Republic Council had set up shop.

His toes were twitching in his boots as he waited for the lift to come. He was rehearsing in his head; trying to figure out just what it was he was going to lead with when he got in to Mon Mothma's office. Should he lead with what he knew? Or should he start by asking questions, feel her out, see if she was hiding anything or if she was prepared to volunteer whatever information she had.

Luke hadn't settled on a strategy yet when the doors to the lift swished open. He was frustrated to see the car was already occupied, and considered for a moment feigning an excuse to wait for the next one—until his brain registered who was standing in front of him.

"Han?"

"Heya, kid," Solo said back, gesturing him forward into the lift with an urgency that Luke found surprising. "What're you doin' here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Skywalker replied as he stepped aboard the lift. He moved to press the indicator button for the Executive floor of the building, but he saw it was already engaged.

"Well, ya didn't," Solo countered, "so you get to answer first."

"I just got back from Terephon," he said, "I went to see Leia."

Han looked askance at him for a moment. He was pretty sure Leia and Lusiil weren't due back on Coruscant for another half an hour.

"She's laying In State in the Senate Rotunda," Luke added.

Solo nodded then. Right. The kid didn't know.

"Look, Han,"

"Listen, kid,"

The two of them spoke at the same time. There was a moment's chuckle, but then Luke spoke again almost immediately.

"Han," he said sternly, "I don't know how to say this to you, or even if you're going to believe me," he said, "But…" The young Jedi took a deep breath and searched his feelings further. He knew – he _knew_ – that what he was about to say was true. "Han," he said again, "I think Leia's alive."

Han's eyes got wide and he crossed his arms over his chest. He took an unconscious look around them, an old smuggler's instinct to check for eavesdroppers before sharing sensitive information, and then leaned closer to Luke before he said his next.

"Yeah, kid," he replied, "She is. I know it." Luke felt himself frowning. That wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting.

"You do?" he asked. "Han, what's…?" he began to question, but a sudden change in his buddy's bearing stopped him before the words came out.

"Look, it's complicated," Solo replied. "There's a lot going on. I'll…" he paused at that. There was a lot he hadn't bothered to drill down on yet, and he didn't want to tell Luke a lie. " _Someone_ will tell you everything," he said, "but not now. Right now we're gonna need your help with something. Do you think you can get away?" Luke nodded.

"Yeah," he replied, his mind racing with questions that Han seemed to be indicating there wasn't time to answer. "I'm on bereavement until I decide to report back," he said, "but I'm surprised to see you here. I heard you'd gone AWOL. Is this all part of some plan?"

"No," Solo replied, "no plan. At least not one I was in on. And I am AWOL. Turns out I don't get bereavement leave 'cause your sister and me ain't married."

"You know, there's a way to fix that."

"And you know I've been tryin' for three years. I'll talk her down the aisle one of these days, but for right now we've got bigger concerns."

"Yeah," Luke agreed. "Like where Leia is and who has her, what's the meaning of all this, and who's in that casket in the Senate Rotunda?"

"Those answers I've got," Han replied, as the lift was coming to a stop at the Executive level. "But what I don't know is how _you_ figured it out."

"Well," he said, "when Wedge showed up, his message made a lot of sense. I kind of… I don't know…" he struggled with the words, he'd never had to articulate his understandings through The Force to someone who didn't wholly believe in it before. "I think I felt the attack when it happened," he said plainly. Surprisingly enough, Han didn't seem to balk at all at the notion. "But the difference," he added, "the difference in how Leia felt in The Force when she was injured…well, I guess I can just say that there was one – a difference, I mean. But after that it didn't change. So when the messenger from Hapes showed up and told us she had died, I had a hard time believing it. I could still feel her. It didn't _feel_ like she had died. Ad so I went to see her body I thought that might make a difference. I thought that maybe I'd finally be able to accept that she was gone. But that didn't happen. It felt all wrong. And then I just thought maybe it was denial or something. But I still couldn't accept that she was dead. There I was, looking at her laid out in her casket and I couldn't shake the notion she was still alive. The Force was telling me my sister wasn't in that casket. I was alone in the room, so I took the lid off to get a closer look at her."

"You what?" Han asked, his tone landing somewhere between impressed and horrified. He herded Luke off the lift and out onto the red-orange carpet of the Executive office suite.

"I cut the casket open with my lightsaber," Luke confessed, his voice quieter as they moved toward the Executive office suite. "I thought maybe if I could touch her, it would help." He shook his head. "But once I did," he continued, "I knew it wasn't her. I knew it in my heart, but the body proved it."

"How's that?" Han asked. He'd been informed that the synth droid was an excellent facsimile, but not altogether perfect. He hoped sincerely that no one besides Leia's twin brother would be able to tell it wasn't really her. If anyone, especially any member of the Kobothi delegation, suspected she'd survived, that could put a hitch into the plan.

"Leia has a birthmark," Luke replied, "on her back."

"Yeah," Han answered, "I know all about it. It's on her hip—just north of her backside. How do you know about it?" he asked suspiciously. The spot wasn't large, and it wasn't exactly located in a place Leia tended to show off. Han had literally no idea when Luke might have seen her thusly undressed.

"Jabba's palace," Luke answered plainly. "It was well visible in that awful outfit they put her in." Han sighed heavily, but nodded.

"Right," he allowed. "I never saw her in that outfit," he reminded his friend, "remember: my eyesight wasn't back until long after she'd changed out of it. Just as well," he added, "if she ever decides to put on racy metal undergarments for my benefit, that's one thing – but I'd really rather not have the mental image of her dressed up like that when she didn't wanna be." He shot Luke a knowing glance in the rearview mirror before turning the conversation back to the more pressing topic. "So anyway," he said, "Leia's birthmark…?"

"The Leia in the casket didn't have one," Luke told him. "That's when I knew for sure that it wasn't her. I almost didn't tell you," he added. "I really wasn't sure that you'd believe me. I was ready to take you in there and show you myself," he said. "I mean…I presumed that you might have seen the birthmark at some point."

Han rolled his eyes and Luke felt his face growing warm. It wasn't like he was a complete prude, but there was something about admitting he was aware that his best friend and his sister had a habit of seeing each other without benefit of their clothes that made him feel icky.

"Wow," Han said. "That's one way to figure things out, I guess. Just tell me you put things back the way you found them?" he asked. "We're kinda trying to keep the secret."

"Yeah, I did," Luke replied as the two of them rounded the corner in to Mon Mothma's outer office. "I don't know what's going on and I didn't want to spoil anyone's plans. So I put everything back. I've got to tell you," he added, "I'm pretty anxious to hear the rest of the story."

"I know you are," Han allowed, "But I'd really rather only have to say this once." Han looked up then, glad to see he already had the attention of the Attendant droid. It was late in the afternoon, the sun was beginning to set. Summit business should have concluded for the day; if there was a chance of catching the Chief Councilor in her office, now was it.

"You do not have an appointment," the droid announced to them. Han was about to ask how it knew that, but then realized that maybe nobody had an appointment and kept his mouth shut. Angering the gatekeeper when he already wasn't sure he'd be getting out of here without getting arrested would not have been helpful to his agenda.

Leia had clearly been a calming influence on him.

"Is Mon Mothma in her office?" he asked. The droid didn't answer.

"Could you please tell her Luke Skywalker's here?" Luke piped up, turning to Han with a look on his face that Solo recognized. If Luke wanted to take the lead for a minute, then Han was going to let him.

The droid said nothing, but after a moment the doors behind it came swishing open. Han didn't wait for an invitation. He took off at a generous clip past the droid and into the inner office.

Mon Mothma stood behind her desk to receive them.

"Jedi Skywalker, General Solo," she greeted.

Han turned his head to watch the door shut behind him before fishing the datacard out of his inner pocket.

"We need you to look at this," he said, holding out the card to her. He shook his head then and looked around the room. "Is it safe to talk in here?" he asked. "Are we sure no one's listening in? Cause there's somethin' we need to tell ya but we gotta keep it secret."

Mon Mothma inclined her head in a gesture of patient placation.

"The room is swept twice daily," she replied. "And I have armed personnel standing guard any time I am out of the office. I can assure you that your confidence will be kept. Now, what is it you need to tell me?"

Han looked back and forth between Luke and Mon Mothma. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed before looking back at the Chief Councilor.

"You're gonna have a hard time believing this," he said, "but Leia's alive."


	21. Chapter 21

Mon Mothma looked like someone had just punched her in the gut.

"He's telling the truth," Luke said.

The Chief Councilor lowered herself into her office chair.

"I would like to believe you," she said, folding her hands on her desk.

"Yeah, I know it sounds crazy," Han allowed. "But Leia's alive _and_ we know who attacked her. It's a real complicated story and quite honestly I think I only know half of it but…" Han paused. Frowning, he looked down at the datacard in his hand, and then back at Luke, and then Mon Mothma. "You know what?" he said then, "the hell with it." He put the datacard back in his pocket. "Come with me."

"Come where?" Luke asked before Mon Mothma had a chance to.

"I got a speeder parked downstairs," Han answered. "it'll take about an hour to get there, but their shuttle should be back by then. I was only supposed to bring this datacard to you," he explained to Mon Mothma, "but I think it's better if you both come back with me. We can discuss it all together. And I know Leia'll be glad to see you both."

Mon Mothma didn't say another word. She simply stood from her seat and gestured for Han to lead the way. The group of them hurried out through the outer office, down the lift, and out through the main doors to the public landing platform. Han was less careful moving about now than he had been coming in—confident he was unlikely to be detained by military authorities with the Chief Councilor in his party.

The three of them piled into the speeder and Han set the nav controls to take them back to the safe house where he'd left the _Falcon_ and where Leia and Lusiil's shuttle was due to land any minute. He wasn't sure just how the old ambulance was going to fit in the hangar bay with his freighter, but that was one of those things he was willing to leave to Lusiil.

"So you've seen her then?" Mon Mothma said to Luke, more than halfway through the ride, which had been eerily silent up to then. "How is she?"

"No, I haven't," Luke answered. "I just got in from Terephon."

"Then how is it…?" she choked on her words then. Luke could tell what she was trying to ask, and he did his best to answer.

"I could feel it," he said to her. He knew Mon Mothma had served the Old Republic, he knew she'd known Jedi in her youth, so he had hope she believed in the things he was saying. "I felt it when she was attacked. But I never felt her die. And I'd know what that feels like; I'm sure I would. And it was all so confusing—so when I got in today I went to see her, where she's lying in State. And I can tell you: I'm sure that's not her. I can't tell you how I know," he said, hoping she'd presume he was talking about The Force and not about the crime he'd committed to confirm his suspicion, "but I know. That's not my sister."

Mon Mothma shook her head. Luke could tell she had a million more questions stewing, but he wasn't going to force her into a conversation she wasn't trying to pursue.

The three of them were quiet for the rest of the ride back to the hangar bay where _The Millennium Falcon_ was temporarily berthed. Han led the others to the lift, hoping he remembered the codes Lusiil had given him. There was no sign of the ambulance, and no indication anyone had been through here since he'd left two hours earlier; he could only hope that the women had arrived on schedule and would be in the apartment when they arrived.

The last thing he wanted was to have Luke and Mon Mothma questioning his honesty—or his sanity—were Leia not to be here when they arrived.

They took the lift down the single floor, and Han was first out when it opened into a wide vestibule. The place was painted white all over, with a row of oval-shaped windows where the walls met the ceiling and curves in every place a person might expect to find corners. It couldn't have been more the opposite of the last place Lusiil had brought them.

"Sweetheart," Han called out.

"She's in the bedroom," Lusiil's voice answered him. She came around from behind them, stopping short when she caught sight of the group emerging from the elevator.

"I brought company," Han said then. Lusiil's mouth had fallen open and she nodded.

"Yes," she managed to say.

"Lusiil," Han said, "this is Leia's brother, Luke and Mon Mothma—Chief of the New Republic Provisional Council."

"Jedi Skywalker," Lusiil greeted, "Madame Chief."

"Lusiil's the one been takin' care of Leia," Han said to his guests. "She'll be the one doin' most of the talkin'," he added. Then to Lusiil he said, "I'm gonna go get Leia."

Lusiil nodded and gestured to a dark wood door around the back of the lift on the opposite side from where she'd come from.

It was less than six meters between where Han stood and the door Lusiil had indicated, but he charged across it like it was the greatest gulf he'd ever experienced. He'd been focused on his mission, amazed by running into Luke and consumed with the idea of putting their plan into motion, but now that all those distractions were no longer at the forefront all he could think about was getting to Leia.

He needed to see her. He needed to touch her and to hear her voice and be sure she was all right. When he reached the door, he didn't bother knocking.

Han came into the bedroom quietly, closing the manual-hinge door behind him before taking careful steps across the dark sienna carpet toward the bed. Leia was curled up on her side, facing away from the door, and she rolled over when she heard it latch behind him. He could see the IV apparatus from the bunker had been moved to the bedside, but he could also see Leia was wearing long sleeves at the moment, and the tubes weren't connected. He could only hope this had been borne of recovery more than stubbornness.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said closing the distance between them and coming to sit beside her on the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep," she replied, reaching out to take his hand. "I'm not tired, but I came in to have a shower and Lusiil insisted I lie down afterward—something about elevating my body temperature and getting dizzy."

"Yeah, I've always liked her," he teased. Leia crinkled her nose at him.

"This bed is nice," she said. "Nicer than the one at the other place."

"Good," he replied.

"You going to stay here tonight?" she asked.

"If you want me to," he replied. Leia sat up and shrugged, still holding on to his hand.

"I didn't know," she said. "You just got the _Falcon_ back. I thought maybe you'd want to spend the night with the other woman."

Han chuckled and wrapped his arm around her.

"No way, princess," he said. "If I had to choose between you and my ship, I'd choose you every time. But I don't," he affirmed. "The _Falcon_ is docked safely upstairs and I can stay right here in this nice bed with you. But not now," he added, "I brought some visitors with me."

"Luke's here," she announced suddenly, as though she'd just seen him come thought the door. It was one of those things Han was just barely becoming accustomed to—that connection between the Jedi and the princess that sometimes defied his understanding.

"Yeah," he said, "Mon Mothma too."

Leia's eyes got wide, and she scrambled to her feet. Han followed as she dashed across the room to the door and along the hall into the apartment's sitting room, where Lusiil was sitting awkwardly with their guests. He couldn't help but notice how sure she seemed on her feet.

She was getting well. Han felt tears in his eyes at the revelation.

As soon as he spotted Leia, Luke was on his feet. He bounded out from behind a squat table and around a set of chairs to grab Leia around her shoulders. Leia grasped her brother's arms, squeezing him tightly as he held her.

"I knew it," he whispered to her, "I knew you weren't gone." Luke stepped back then to get a good look at her. She was pale, thinner than he remembered, and her breathing seemed off somehow. But it was her. And she was alive. And her impression in The Force was as strong and as hopeful as it had always been.

Leia turned to Mon Mothma then. She was standing, still on the far side of the little caf table, with her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes were shining and her lower lip trembled.

"Just moments ago I'd have said this was too good to be true," she said. Leia reached out and took both her mentor's hands in her own.

"I'm so glad you've come," Leia said.

"So am I," Mon Mothma answered.

"Please, everyone," Lusiil addressed them, "have a seat. We have much to discuss," she reminded them, "and not much time."

This apartment had come with a service droid, who had dutifully brought the lot of them caf before taking possession of Han's datacard and serving as a holoprojector for the remainder of the meeting.

Lusiil had not been exaggerating when she'd said there was much to discuss. She went into as little detail as the others would allow as to the background on The Quiet, their operations during the years of the Empire, and just how they'd managed to fake Leia's death and sneak her out of the Imperial Medcenter. She'd been a bit more forthcoming on the investigation into the attack at the banquet and how they'd come to the conclusion that the attacker had been a Kobok.

It hadn't taken much beyond the holorecording from Kobothi space to convince Mon Mothma of Imperial entanglements. By the time all the evidence had been presented, not only was the Chief Councilor convinced, she was _mad_. Han could count on one hand the times he'd seen the Rebel Leader visibly angry, and this looked to be the worst of them all.

"We are running a parallel investigation," she said to the group as the caf was being cleared in favor of cocktails. "I have the power to suspend Summit business—which I shall do effective immediately. Each delegation will be brought in and questioned individually. The Koboks will be in the second wave, or perhaps the third, in order to avoid suspicion on their part. We'll bring them aboard _Rebel Dream_ ," she said then, "and as soon as they arrive we'll depart for the Tingel Arm. General Solo, can you bring Leia up aboard your ship?" she asked, "keep her hidden until we decide it's time to reveal to them their plans have failed?"

"Sure," Han replied, taking a sip from the whisky the droid had given him, "as long as you promise nobody'll try and throw me in the brig soon as I land."

"I bed your pardon?" Mon Mothma asked.

"Han is technically AWOL at the moment," Leia told her, "he took a big risk even coming to see you today."

"Oh, dear," Mon Mothma answered, "yes. I can make that assurance. I will speak to Carlist at once—tonight—to get that situation remedied. I promise you'll be in no peril aboard our flagship, General Solo."

"Then you've got yourself a princess hideaway," he agreed. "Luke," he said then, "I presume you'll want to come along?"

"Yeah," Luke replied. "I'd like to."

"It will be good to have you," Mon Mothma told him. "I should get going," she said then. "There's work to be done before morning."

"Let me drive you back," Luke offered. "My X-wing is going to be a lot more conspicuous parked for a few days at the Senate Complex than Han's speeder. I can get up to _Rebel Dream_ tonight—make it look like I'm there to sort through Leia's things, maybe?"

"Yes," Mon Mothma affirmed, standing from her seat, "that's good. I think we all agree that we should keep the secret of Leia's survival among ourselves for the time being."

"I will drive you both," Lusiil insisted. "The speeder is borrowed and will need to be returned. And there are errands I will need to complete."

"You're coming with us, though?" Leia asked her then.

"If you'll have me," Lusiil replied, "I'd like to. I would appreciate seeing this operation through to its end."

"By all means," Mon Mothma replied. "The New Republic owes you and your organization a great debt."

"It's been my honor to serve you," Lusiil replied. "Senator Organa is vital to the establishment of the New Republic."

"Indeed," Mon Mothma replied reaching out to squeeze Leia's hand before standing. "She's likely to be Minister of State Organa before too long, if things continue to go our way this week."

Leia sat up straighter and tried to keep her mouth from gaping. That was the first she'd heard of such a thing. Even the idea she was being talked about for the job of the New Republic's chief diplomat was stirring. She had no idea what to say to that.

She stood up then, turning to embrace her mentor before moving to hug her brother goodbye.

"We'll see you all tomorrow, then," Leia said as the group of them moved toward the lift.

"Should we head up tonight?" Han asked.

"No," Mon Mothma answered him, "it will likely be late in the day before we have the Kobothi delegation aboard. A mid-day arrival should be fine."

Han nodded. Good. That was good. Leia liked the bed in this place and she needed a good night's sleep at this point. She'd complained to him that her bunk in the treatment bay of the old ambulance hadn't been very comfortable, and he knew the beds aboard the _Falcon_ weren't much better.

Han slung his arm around Leia once they'd bid the others adieu.

Their plan was in motion, he was back with his princess, and the people who hurt her were about to be brought to task.

That felt good.


	22. Chapter 22

After a quick dinner of reheated pink shell beans smothered in cheese (at Leia's request), Han had tucked her into the comfortable bed he'd found her in earlier and headed to the 'fresher for a long-overdue shower.

He'd showered and shaved as quickly as possible, but Leia was already asleep by the time he came back into the bedroom. He slid beneath the covers slowly, careful not to jostle her. The four days in the bacta tank had done wonders, and she was doing worlds better than she had been before they'd left for the Tingel Arm, but he knew she wasn't well yet.

"Hey," Leia whispered, rolling over to face him as he settled beneath the sheets. She slid closer, nuzzling her head into his neck and draping her leg over his.

"Sorry I woke you," he said, kissing her gently on the top of her head.

"Wasn't sleeping," she replied, "but you can't be there." He kissed her forehead again.

"All right, sweetheart," he said. He was a little confused—earlier she'd implied she wanted him to stay with her tonight. But it didn't matter. Whether she'd meant to invite him to share the bed or to sack out in the next room, he didn't really care. As long as she was happy and comfortable, he'd be fine anyplace. "I'll be right in the next room if you need anything. Goodnight."

"No," Leia contended, grabbing his arm before he could move away. She opened her eyes and looked squarely in to his. "You're supposed to sleep on the left." Han chuckled and shook his head.

"I've been sleeping on the right because the sensor port is in your left arm and I didn't want to bother your IV line."

"But the IV line is disconnected now," she said.

"You gonna be all right without it?" he asked. Leia nodded.

"I think so. And we can always reconnect if we need to. But for now, you can have your side of the bed back."

"Yeah, okay," Han allowed. He scooted himself off the bed and scurried around to the left-hand side, where Leia was pulling back the covers for him. "There," he said as he settled in beside her, "that better?"

"Yes," she replied, sliding across the sheets toward him. "Now you're where you belong."

"In bed beside you is where I belong?"

"Absolutely."

"I'm going to want you to sign papers to that effect," he half-joked. He'd been meaning to propose to Leia for months now. When he'd brought up the idea of marriage the night of the Summit banquet, she'd seemed entirely dismissive; he wasn't sure just what possessed him to bring it up now, but for some reason it just felt right.

"I think that can be arranged," she replied, rolling onto her side and inching closer to him where he lay.

Han threaded his arm around her as she sidled up beside him. She pressed the length of her body against his, slowly beginning to move her knee against the inside of his leg. She ran her hand over his chest and tilted her face to begin nibbling at the nape of his neck. Han shuddered at the sensation. It felt good to have her this close to him. And her mouth… her mouth felt heavenly. But there would be plenty of time for that once she was well. This was too soon to even be considering such things.

"Careful there, Princess," he admonished her gently, "keep that up and you're liable to get me thinkin' all sorts of stuff I shouldn't be."

"So then," she replied, increasing the pressure of her knee against the inside of his thigh, "you'd be thinking what I'm thinking." She moved again, inching her way up until her knee was nestled against his groin and her lips found purchase on his earlobe. Han quirked his lip and rolled onto his side, loathe to stop her kissing his ear, but needing to look her in the eye.

"Are you really feelin' that good?" he asked, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. She couldn't really want to…could she? Leia smiled, pressing her whole body against him as she turned her face to kiss his fingers. She placed her hands against his chest and then met his eyes with her own.

"I feel well," she answered, emphasis on the semantic difference. "I want you to make me feel good."

###

When he thought Leia was gone forever, sex hadn't even crossed Han's mind as something he was going to miss. But the chance to be intimate again had reminded him of how much he'd nearly lost. He'd had a hard time keeping himself together.

He'd been so gentle with her at first, so timid: terrified he might hurt her. But he'd remembered then those first few nights out of carbonite—how tender she'd been with him when he'd needed the connection so badly. She'd been that comfort for him. He wanted to be the same comfort for her.

And, stars, he'd missed her. He'd missed _this_. He hadn't even realized how bereft he'd still felt—even sleeping beside her—until he had her wrapped tightly in his arms, her body beneath him, soft moans in his ears as she hungrily took him in.

It was over far too quickly, but Han was overcome. He was in tears, trembling, overwhelmed by the strength of his feelings for her.

"How are you?" she asked, when minutes had passed and he still lay beside her. He'd neither moved to hold her nor fallen asleep—which was wildly out of character for him and made her concerned that something was wrong he wasn't telling her about.

Han's voice caught in his throat. It was all he could do no to break down in sobs.

"I don't know, Leia," he managed to whisper. And that was enough: she understood. Leia scooted toward him and rolled onto her side, propping her chin on his shoulder.

"You don't have to talk about it," she said. "I can only imagine what this has been like for you."

"Can you?"

"I was right there when they froze you in carbonite," she reminded him. "And I watched from the landing platform as _Slave I_ flew away with you to in the hold. You'd told me yourself about Jabba's preference for…for wanting to see the murders up close. For six months it was all I could do to hold on to hope that maybe we'd get there before it was too late. I know what it's like to think the person you love is gone forever."

Han let out a heavy sigh. He hadn't thought about that. He hadn't let it occur to him that she really _did_ understand a shade of what he was going through.

"I don't mean to make this harder on you," he said, reaching his arm around to hold her to him.

"It's okay," she said back. "You can talk to me."

"I don't ever want to feel this way again," he said. "I don't ever want to know what it's like to be without you. I can't do it, Leia. I can't lose you again. And then I think about what we do—and this war we're fighting—and I know… I _know_ that none of us is safe at the moment and…."

"But we are safe," Leia interrupted him, "for the moment." She turned her head to kiss his chest before she went on. "You're right that the future's not certain—doubly so when we're at war. But the moment," she countered, " _this_ moment—this moment it's just us. We're here, we're safe, and we're together. And there's no use dwelling on the hurt or the heartache or the uncertainty or the fear. Why let any of that into this place? It doesn't belong here. This space is sacred; just us—just love and comfort. Fearing for the future won't change it, won't make it better. Neither will dwelling on the past. I know there's a lot to process about these last few weeks, and we'll do that. We'll do that together. We'll take our time and it'll be okay in the end—because we're together now, and we're going to be together through all of it. But right now, tonight, let's not think about it. Let's just be glad to be together…right now."

Han rolled onto his side and bent his head to kiss her forehead. She was right. He was letting his fear and his pain get in between them. And that was the last thing he wanted.

"Just promise you'll never leave me, sweetheart," he asked, wrapping both his arms tightly around her.

"Not if I can help it," she replied, "I promise."


	23. Chapter 23

Han was awake far earlier than he wanted to be. The sun was only just beginning to peek through the narrow windows, and the hubbub of the city outside was stsrting to build to its usual morning volume. Han wasn't sure what had woken him, but he cursed whatever it was nonetheless.

Multiple attempts to get back to sleep had proven unsuccessful. Leia was snoozing peacefully beside him, curled up beneath the covers with her head on his pillow. He began to worry that his continued tossing and turning would wake her, and decided it was for the best to get up for the day. He slipped out of bed and managed to get dressed in the dark, tiptoeing into the 'fresher to brush his teeth and run a damp comb through his hair.

On his way out, he paused to reconnect the tube to the port in Leia's arm; he figured Lusiil wouldn't have gone to the trouble of setting up the apparatus if it was as unnecessary as Leia wanted him to believe. He snuck quietly out of the bedroom and to the lift in the main area of the apartment. He had no idea what it was that had him so out of sorts, but he did know the one thing that could possibly help with that.

It took only seconds for the lift to deposit him in the hangar bay with the _Millennium Falcon_. The old girl had been giving him trouble switching from atmospheric thrusters to sublight engines lately, and he meant to spend some time addressing it. He figured he could get the system diagnosed this morning at the very least. He'd be able to spend the days in transit to and from the Kobothi system to get the fix handled— _Rebel Dream_ had ample hardware and auxiliary personnel to help him see to the repair. He just needed to get it properly diagnosed and everything put back together in time to get up there.

He was elbows-deep in a mess off fuel lines when he heard footsteps in the entry corridor. He crawled out of the pit beneath the lounge, getting his head above the deck just in time to see Leia come around the corner. He couldn't help but smile at her. She looked good.

Rosy-cheeked and smiling, with her hair done up in a familiar style, and carrying a cup of caf in each hand, she looked well for the first time since the night of the banquet.

"Heya, sweetheart," he greeted.

"Hi," she said back, crossing to take a seat at the edge of the maintenance pit. "I figured I'd find you up here when you weren't in bed this morning. You know… a lady doesn't like to wake up alone the morning after."

"Yeah," he sighed, trying to give her a smile. She was joking- he could tell. And he usually loved her playful moods. But this morning his smile just couldn't reach his eyes. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, at least hoping to tell her he hadn't meant to leave her feeling abandoned. Han wiped his hands on a rag he'd tucked in his belt before taking his cup of caf from her hand.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

Han didn't know how to answer that.

Because, of course, everything was _not_ okay. Someone had tried to assassinate Leia, she had nearly died, she was still pushing herself too hard in her recovery, and there was every chance they were about to depart on a fool's errand to try and catch the man behind it. Meanwhile the New Republic Charter Summit was in jeopardy—the entire future of the galaxy was hanging on what was about to happen.

And there was one other thing, too.

He'd figured it out sometime between taking up the deck plate and ripping out the first of the fuel pump gauges. There was something missing from this whole process and it was eating him up to be without it. Han set his mug down and put his hands on Leia's knees.

"I want to call Chewie," he said. Better to come out with it, he reckoned, than to have her think he was trying to keep something from her.

Leia's mouth fell open and she moved quickly to cover it with her fingers. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of this already.

"Of course," she said immediately. Han hadn't really heard her.

"I know this is all supposed to be secret," he continued, "and it's not that I haven't loved having this time—just the two of us, but…"

"Han," she interrupted him, setting her caf aside and taking him by the shoulders. "Call Chewie."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," she said back with a gentle nod of her head. "I'm sure Lusiil and her people, and Mon Mothma, will want to keep all of this secret for a while longer. But Chewie's family. I'm sorry I hadn't thought about it sooner. He deserves to know where you went when you disappeared. And he deserves to know we're both alive and well. Call Lando, too," she added. "Have them meet us on _Rebel Dream_ tonight. Having the two of them come to meet the _Falcon_ shouldn't raise any eyebrows. No one will be the wiser. It'll be all right."

Han smiled up at Leia. He'd always liked it when she sat on the edge of the maintenance pit while he worked—there was something specifically adorable about her being a head taller than he was. He boosted himself up on his hands to kiss her.

"How about I get this put back together and then come back to bed?" he offered as he lowered himself back into the maintenance pit and reached for the mug of caf she'd brought him. He liked the way she'd kissed him just then—liked it a lot. Things were beginning to feel like normal between them, and the flirting was quite possibly his favorite part.

"Call Chewie first," she answered him. "Tell him and Lando both they can use my personal code if they have any trouble getting clearance to come aboard _Rebel Dream."_

"You sure that still works, sweetheart?" he asked, taking a sip of his caf as he tightened the seal on a connector. "The last time you were deceased your clearances all got voided."

Leia frowned. She hadn't thought of that. It had been years since she'd had to deal with the "Missing in Action" debacle that had come in the wake of the evacuation of Echo Base. She'd almost let herself forget what a headache it had been to get herself back on the active duty roster after she'd been stuck with the designation "Missing: Presumed Killed".

There was every chance her personal codes had no power to get her friends aboard the flagship.

"Then have them call Luke," she corrected. "He's on leave technically, but his authority should hold. I've seen the news this morning," she told him then, "Mon Mothma's already suspended business for the day. I don't know how she did it, but she has over forty teams conducting delegation interviews—all of them in discrete locations. It all looks very thorough and impartial."

"Good," Han said. He put down his mug of caf and bent to reconnect the length of cable he'd had in his hand. "I don't want these Kobok guys gettin' twitchy."

"I feel the same," she said back. "And I'll feel better once we're all in hyperspace and headed back to the Tingel Arm for some answers."

"Agreed." Han finished tightening the fuel line and reached for the pump filter he needed to reassemble next. "I mean it," he said then, "go back to bed. I'll get this done, I'll call and set things up with Chewie, and then I'll be right there."

"All right," Leia agreed. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "Don't be too long."

Han grinned up at her. If Leia was anxious to get him back into bed, he'd do his damndest not to keep her waiting.

By the time Han had gotten the _Falcon_ 's fuel system back together and had managed to leave messages for both Chewie and Lando asking them to meet him aboard _Rebel Dream_ ASAP, he discovered his plans to spend the rest of the morning in bed with the princess had been cancelled. He found Leia and Lusiil in the sitting room of the apartment, packing up cases of computer equipment.

"Just in time to help us carry this stuff," Leia greeted him as he stepped out of the lift.

"Leaving already?" he asked. Leia nodded. Closing the distance between them until she could squeeze him around his waist. She felt a little bad that their plans to spend the morning in bed were scrapped, but she also knew he understood the importance of moving forward with their plan. They'd have days in hyperspace on the way to the Kobothi system (although fewer aboard the state-of-the-art rebel flagship than they'd had aboard the antiquated ambulance) to loll around in bed together.

"I've just heard from Mon Mothma," she replied. "The Investigators are on their way to pick up the Kobok delegation now. We have clearance to land in the Executive Hangar Bay—so do Luke and Lando. But we need to get going. The Captain wants to make for the hyperspace lane just as soon as the Kobothi delegation's shuttle touches down. We don't want to be the hold up."

Han tilted his face down to kiss Leia on the top of her head. She sounded more and more like her old self with every word, and he loved it. He bent at the knees and scooped up a pair of cases on the floor in front of him.

"Well all right, ladies," he said, winking at Leia just because he felt like it, "what are we waiting for? Let's go catch some bad guys."


	24. Chapter 24

The first day aboard _Rebel Dream_ had been incredibly eventful.

Leia had teased Han into sneaking up to her stateroom and _smuggling_ back a few of her things onto the _Falcon_. Having a clean nightgown, a few fresh sets of her nicer basics (Han had very little idea about ladies' basics and had made what Leia considered to be _seriously interesting_ choices), and a few pieces of her own clothing had done wonders for Leia's feeling of recovery.

By the time Han had returned from his errand to fetch her things, Chewie and Lando had found their way aboard the _Falcon_ and were both sitting, dumbfounded and misty-eyed, at the dejarik table while Leia and Lusiil recounted the events of the past couple of weeks. Han was glad they were all together now, even If he didn't relish having to share Leia's time and attention.

It had been one thing keeping the secret of Leia's survival when she'd still been in poor health and in need of care, but now that she was all but completely recovered and they were elbows-deep in the mystery of who had tried to do her in, Han wasn't sure he'd have been comfortable not letting the others in on the news. He was glad that he didn't have to, although he did miss the feeling of having her all to himself. It would only be days before her survival became public knowledge, and he was sure she would insist on a return to public service as soon as possible. Han didn't like the idea of more separations. But he did enjoy the feeling of camaraderie that came from having all his nearest and dearest gathered aboard his ship and engaged in conspiracy.

They all agreed they were better as a team. Even Leia had, over the years (albeit hesitantly) admitted to needing backup on occasion. Having a pair of Generals, a devoted Wookiee, and a Jedi brother at her side was surely going to be of assistance in solving the Kobothi mystery.

But when the call came in from Mon Mothma not long after Han had felt the _Rebel Dream_ jump to hyperspace, it was revealed that maybe the mystery was about to solve itself.

"The Kobothi delegation has made no denials," the Chief Councilor told them as they huddled around the com unit in the _Falcon_ 's cockpit, careful to shield Leia from anyone who might glance up from the hangar bay floor. Only those aboard the freighter, Mon Mothma herself, and Carlist Rieekan were to be aware of Leia's survival and participation in this mission until after they had the Kobothi government aboard the _Rebel Dream_ to undergo questioning.

"But they ain't admitting to anything either, are they?" a dubious Han Solo asked from his seat in the pilot's chair.

"Not in so many words," Mon Mothma answered, "but they've been more than cooperative. They've agreed to remain confined to quarters until we reach the Tingel Arm, and they have agreed to arrange our meeting with their home government. There have been no denials of involvement nor any indignant outcries of injustice."

"And judging by what we know of Koboks," Leia interjected, "that's really saying something."

"Indeed," Mon Mothma affirmed.

"But if they're stayin' confined to their quarters," Han said then, "how come we gotta keep Leia penned up on the _Falcon_? Shouldn't she get the run of the ship since they're all locked away. It's a shame to keep her all cooped up if we don't really have to."

"I'm afraid information security isn't as tight as we'd like it to be," Mon Mothma answered. "And the news of Leia's survival is likely to affect the crew a great deal. We cannot risk a slip of the tongue in the presence of the Kobothi delegation; it could spoil our entire plan."

"I'll be all right, Han," Leia assured him, placing her hand on his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. "It's only for a few days."

"Once the Delegation is seated and we've spoken with the representatives of their home government, Leia will be free to return to her stateroom, and to her duties as an Ambassador of this Republic—when she's ready," Mon Mothma said.

Han turned his head just in time to catch Leia's smile. That wasn't the first time her return to duty had been mentioned. Leia had confided in him her fears about whether or not she'd be welcomed back into the Diplomatic Service. He remembered her frustration with the then-Alliance's trying to shield her from hurt or harm in the days and weeks following the destruction of Alderaan; her fears were not altogether unfounded. He knew she would be pleased to hear this ordeal hadn't done anything to undermine the New Republic's confidence in her abilities. And as much as he didn't relish the idea of her returning to work right away, he loved how happy the idea made her.

"I'll be ready when the time comes," Leia assured her mentor.

"I'm sure you will be," Mon Mothma agreed, "and you'll only have to be patient a little while longer."

###

By the time the _Rebel Dream_ reached the Tingel arm, Han was more than fed up with being patient. He'd stopped making all but the most necessary trips out of the _Falcon_ into other parts of the ship. He hated the looks on the faces of the crew. He hated everyone trying to express their shared grief to him in whatever form they thought was proper. It occurred to him he hadn't been out in public since the night of the attack, and he realized very quickly he couldn't abide public sympathy. He didn't want to dwell on how close he'd come to losing the princess, and he was reminded of that every time a misty-eyed yeoman gave him a deferential nod. Being cooped up on the _Falcon_ had its downsides, but a little cabin fever was a hell of a lot better than immersing himself in the grief of his fellows.

He preferred spending the time with Leia anyway. They punctuated their days with games of Sabacc (she was getting rather good), reading, and stealing time alone when they were sure Luke and the others were engaged elsewhere for a while. Leia had sent Lando to her cabin in search of a dress for the meeting with the Koboks—citing him as her most stylish friend—when they felt the ship come out of hyperspace.

"We're ahead of schedule," Han said, the concern clear in his voice. He leaned over and kissed Leia on her forehead before hopping up and heading to the cockpit. Leia frowned as she slid out of the bunk and followed him. So much for a little time to themselves!

"What's the matter?" she asked, careful to stand just on the far side of the cockpit door—Han could see her from his chair, but she was unlikely to be seen by anyone in the hangar bay. He was flipping switches frantically in a pattern Leia recognized as the ship's startup sequence. "Han," she said firmly, "what's going on?"

"We came out of hyperspace early," he said. "And that makes me nervous."

"So you're…"

"Gonna get us out of here."

"Could you at least call the bridge and ask first?" she implored. "We haven't exactly been in on the planning meetings these last two days; maybe something's changed that we don't know about."

Han turned his head to frown at her. He didn't like plans changing without him. He didn't like not knowing what was going on. He absolutely despised feeling this out of control.

Leia sighed. Han had been more and more on edge the closer they got to the Kobothi system. Part of her wondered if they really were ahead of schedule, or if it was just his nerves effecting his experience of the passage of time. He took his hands off the _Falcon'_ s controls and punched a code into his holocomm.

"What is it, Captain Solo?" Mon Mothma asked as her torso came into relief just above the _Falcon_ 's dash. Leia was surprised at first that Han had called the Chief Councilor personally, but after a moment's thought realized it was a safer bet than calling the bridge and taking his chances with whomever was on watch. Very few people knew the purpose of their mission, and he wouldn't want to waste valuable time explaining his need to know to someone who was out of the loop.

"Where are we?" Han asked, his voice sounding almost frantic. "What's going on."

Mon Mothma nodded. It was a well-practiced gesture of patience and calm that Leia recognized immediately.

"The Kobothi delegation has shared with us the Star Destroyer you encountered on your prior visit is still in system. They have arranged to meet us at these coordinates rather than ask us to confront them."

"Also keeps them from having to admit they're meeting with a bunch of Rebels," Han added.

"Indeed."

"Well," he said sternly, going back to his earlier activity of engaging the _Falcon_ 's startup sequence, "if this turns out to be an ambush, you'd better have these hangar bay doors open, because I'm blastin' her highness outta here at the first whiff I get of trouble."

"There'll be no need for that, Captain Solo," Mon Mothma assured him. "The Kobothi delegation has already arrived. They're being given their landing instructions now—in a bay on the far side of the ship from yours."

"Yeah, well…" Han grumbled, shaking his head.

"You'll let us know when details of a meeting are finalized?" Leia called over his shoulder.

"We will," Mon Mothma affirmed. "They're coming aboard now. I'll be in touch shortly." The hologram fizzled and disappeared.

"They have everything under control," Leia assured Han as he slowly began returning the ship's switches to their disengaged positions.

"These are the same people who didn't put scanners on the ballroom," he reminded her. "I don't know if their idea of 'under control' jives with mine."

"Han," she said, daring to step farther in to the cockpit. The hangar bay was all but deserted, there was little to no chance of anyone seeing her. "You know as well as I do that scanners wouldn't have made any difference in what happened that night." Han stood from his chair and looked back at her.

"Yeah, I know," he said, reaching out his hands to take hers. "But it doesn't change how I feel about it. If I don't think they're doin' enough to keep you safe, then I'm gonna say somethin."

"You don't have to protect me, Han," she said. "Whatever's going to happen will happen."

"Leia," he interrupted.

"Han," she stopped him before he could say anything more. "I don't want to talk about it. Can we please leave it—just for an hour? We'll be back to working on this just as soon as the Koboks are aboard. Until then it's just us. Let's not let them take another hour from us, okay?"

Han squeezed his eyes shut and nodded his head.

"Yeah okay," he allowed. "Not right now. Right now it's just you and me, princess."

"Good," Leia said, squeezing his hands, "now let's go back to the bunk room and pick up where we left off."


	25. Chapter 25

Han had been of two minds about attending the meeting with the Kobothi delegation. He'd never been terribly fond of meetings, and he wasn't really sure he would be able to keep his blaster out of his hands if this one went the way he feared it might. Lando had agreed it might be best for General Solo to sit this one out. But when the delegates from the Kobothi home government had come aboard and he found out Agva Thinh was among them, he started to warm to the idea of going after all.

Sure, there was no guarantee he wouldn't murder the guy, but he was sure no jury of his peers would possibly convict him if it came to that. _The son-of-a-Hutt deserved it_ was a defense as old as the adversarial system, and Han had faith he'd be more likely to get a medal for shooting Leia's would-be assassin than he would a jail sentence.

The thing that finally made his mind up was Leia having asked him to be there. She'd be listening in to the meeting from an adjacent office, choosing her moment to reveal herself when she saw fit. If she wanted Han sitting at the table waiting for her arrival, there was no way he was going to be anywhere else.

Every member of the New Republic Council who was aware of Leia's having survived the attack were present at the meeting. Lusiil had declined an invitation, electing instead to engage in some further form of subterfuge Han hadn't quite figured out. He owed her a great debt—they all did—but Han had bigger things to worry about this day than what their sneaky new friend was up to. He sat between Lando and the empty chair meant for Leia as the New Republic delegation waited for the Koboks to arrive.

Normally Han would have balked at the idea of sitting so close to the head of the table. He didn't like to be so much as adjacent to the center of attention. But Leia wanted him beside her, and that was enough to convince him. He also didn't mind the optics, if he were being truly honest with himself. In light of his treatment by the New Republic in general—not being granted bereavement leave among other complaints—he appreciated being seated so close to the center of power. It was the closest he was likely to get to official recognition of his relationship to Leia—at least until he talked her into marrying him.

He hoped the day would come when things like that didn't matter—when there would be no more wars to fight and who he and Leia were to each other wouldn't need to be considered in any official capacity. But for the time being he was glad to finally be considered at all.

The New Republic representatives had only been seated for a few minutes when the conference room doors swished open. Han made himself sit up straight and move his hand off his blaster. As far as their guests were concerned, he was a New Republic General, present in the meeting for the same diplomatic and military reasons as the others. Showing himself immediately as Leia's hot-tempered and angry lover wouldn't do anybody any good. Still, he was ready and willing to go that route if he started to feel like the Koboks were giving the New Republic the runaround.

The Kobothi delegation entered single file, flanked by a cadre of ship's security. Their Prime Minister wore a red velvet cape that Lando might have envied had it not clashed so garishly with his mustard-yellow carapace. Others in the party wore similar vestments, in varying lengths according to their rank. They kept their hands visible, their phalanges twitching and clacking against each other in an affectation of insectoid species that had always made Han squirm. This was not going to be pleasant.

The Koboks were led to their seats and their guards dismissed by Mon Mothma to the back of the room. She was the only one standing. She waited until she'd caught the Prime Minister's eye before speaking.

"I suppose you suspect why we've brought you here," she said.

The Prime Minister placed his hands on the table and nodded, a gesture Han took particular note of. Placing one's hands on the table was a Kobothi gesture of agreement and compliance, just as a nod of the head was a human one. Leia had made certain to tutor him on the finer points of alien diplomacy before their first trip to the Tingel Arm. And she'd told him years before how diplomats were often trained to employ the body language of their counterparts with purpose, and that watching for their native cues would speak much more to the truth of the situation than any performative gestures would. It appeared, at least to Han's untrained eye, the Prime Minister was about to be honest.

"Indeed, Madam Chief," the Prime Minister answered. "As you likely know," he began pushing his chair a short distance from the table so as to better address all in attendance, "the Kobok people have always been independent- ceding to neither Empire nor Republic. With our position so far from the Core, this has never been an issue."

"Yes," Mon Mothma affirmed, "we are well aware of the Kobothi people's history of non-engagement with the greater galactic government, which is why we were so pleasantly surprised to receive your response to our invitation to attend the Charter Summit."

The Prime Minister's carapace began to shine, beads of white liquid forming behind his antennae. Han knew this was a sign of extreme unease, and he was sure Mon Mothma knew the same. He was growing impatient with the niceties, but the Prime Minister's excretions seemed to be an indication they were getting somewhere. Han had prepared himself for hours of humming and hawing and diplomatic runarounds. The Prime Minister's choice to move immediately to the heart of the matter was a little refreshing.

"A little over a month ago," the Prime Minister said, "our system was visited by an Imperial Super Star Destroyer. The man in command calls himself a Warlord. This is not a title we were familiar with from the Empire, but he seemed to have the full force of Imperial might behind him. He demanded our cooperation, or else he threatened to cut off our planet and our people from all outside contact. Koboth is not a self-sufficient planet, Madam Councilor," he said then, "such a blockade could starve us into extinction. And we certainly lack the resources to fight the Empire—even in its currently weakened state."

"I understand," Mon Mothma said patiently, folding her hands on the table. "You couldn't risk not cooperating—for the sake of your people."

"Right," the Prime Minister said back. "This Warlord demanded we send a delegation to your summit- that we disrupt it."

Agva Thinh slammed his fists onto the table at that moment.

"They made me kill that girl!" he cried, white liquid streaming from the glands behind his antennae, filling the room with a sickly-sweet smell that turned Han's stomach almost as much as the topic of conversation. "He said if I killed that girl they would leave- they would leave us alone and let us resume commerce and we would all survive. I didn't have a choice. I did what I thought I had to do, but then they didn't leave! That Super Star Destroyer is still in our system, making more demands of us. I should never have done it! But what is the life of one woman against our entire population?"

Han was ready to put his fist in Avga Thinh's face over that question, but his train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a door swishing open on the far end of the room. Leia had chosen this moment to make her entrance. Every bit of tension in Han's body released itself when he saw her.

The dress Lando had picked out for her was deep blue-black, embroidered all over in silver thread. It had a bateau neckline and slim-fitting three-quarter sleeves that buttoned at the elbow. Her hair was done up in swirls and braids, and the gentle A-line of the skirt moved just so as she stepped in the room. Han had never seen her looking more royal.

Agva Thinh fell out of his chair. The Kobok Prime Minister stood abruptly from his.

Han Solo smiled more broadly than he had in a long while.

"As you can see, gentlemen," Leia addressed the Kobothi delegation as she moved to join them at the table, "It seems you have been deceived—from multiple quarters."

"Your highness," the Prime Minister addressed Leia as he sank back into his chair. Alliance security had moved to examine Agva Thinh, who was coming to slowly as he was helped back into his seat.

Leia inclined her head toward him.

"I do apologize for the subterfuge," Mon Mothma offered their visitors. "but, under the circumstances, you can appreciate why we'd wish to keep the ambassador's survival secret until we better understood the nature of the attack."

The Koboks all placed their hands on the table, Agva Thinh included.

"Madam Chief," Thinh said to Mon Mothma, once again falling from his chair, but this time onto a knee in a gesture of subjugation. "I submit myself to whatever measure of justice the New Republic sees fit. I take full responsibility for the harm that came to her highness at my hands. But please, please, do not punish my entire planet for my having been deceived."

"Please Madam Chief," the Prime Minister picked up the conversation, "We implore you. If the Empire is truly your enemy, and you truly wish peace and freedom for the galaxy at large, we beg you to come to the aid of the Kobok people in ridding our space of this Imperial Warlord whose demands, we now understand, may never be met."

Mon Mothma inclined her head toward the Prime Minister before exchanging a look with Leia. Both women nodded in silent agreement. Han squeezed Leia's hand under the table as the Chief Councilor replied to their guests.

"The New Republic would be happy to discuss an alliance with the Kobok people in defiance of the continuation of Imperial tyranny; negotiations to begin immediately."


	26. EPILOGUE

As soon as he came through the door to her apartment, Leia could tell her beloved was in a foul humor.

She easily recognized the glower on Han's face as one of glum resignation. She'd seen it plenty of times before— usually when he knew he'd lost an argument with her but wasn't ready to admit defeat just yet. For someone who was such a legendary sabacc player, he sure could wear his feelings all over his face sometimes.

"Well, hello to you, too," she joked as he flopped down on the sitting room sofa in a huff.

In the two weeks since their return to Coruscant from the Tingel Arm, he'd been staying with her in her apartment in the Alderaanian Embassy. It was clear he had finally made himself fully at home by the way he immediately set to tugging off his boots. Leia loved how normal things were beginning to feel; waking up together, heading off to work, and coming home to each other at the end of the day was not a routine either one of them was ever apt to take for granted again.

News of Leia's survival had spread through the Core quickly, and although plenty of the galaxy's citizens were displeased at having seemingly been deceived by their government, they seemed universally pleased that the Princess was all right. She and Han were making a habit of being seen in public together—both to cement her recovery in the minds of the people and to try and assuage Han's once-stated insecurity as to the public's perception of their relationship to one another. Every time she made a point to kiss him in a crowded place, he felt a little better about things.

They'd made it clear to each other they hoped this was the kind of future they had to look forward to; both of them busy and professionally fulfilled, both of them happy to come home to each other at the end of the day, and neither of them shy about declaring their feelings for each other in front of whomever might be listening.

Han appreciated that more than he could articulate—as they were already both leading very public lives. Leia had returned to her diplomatic duties before they'd ever touched down on Coruscant; she'd been integral in coordinating aid to the Koboks in dealing with their Imperial difficulties. She'd arranged for The New Republic to send aid near-immediately, and in less than a week the warlord threatening to cut off the Tingel Arm had been sent packing. Han's return to duty had him back to his former assignment— helping to secure Governmental Center from would-be saboteurs, and flushing out leftover booby traps and espionage devices from Palpatine's reign. As much as anything, it was a PR move, meant to assure the citizens the New Republic was doing everything in its power to keep them safe. Han's role as the General in charge of the project had him shaking hands and smiling for holocams as often as it had him doing any proper pacification work. It was routine, almost tedious duty, but he hadn't minded the humdrum as long as it meant he go to come home to Leia every night.

Usually, he came home in a reasonably good mood. But this day, Leia could tell, he most certainly was not.

"Hi, sweetheart," He finally grumbled in reply, slamming the datapad in his hand down on the sofa beside him.

"Han, what is it?" she asked. She'd thought his mood was just an ordinary bout of grumpiness—the kind he was occasionally prone to at the end of the day (especially if he hadn't eaten well, or had spent his afternoon dealing with ornery media), but something told her this was more than that. Leia set down the datapad she'd been studying and began to walk toward him as she asked: "What's the matter?"

"I got orders," he replied. Han got up from the sofa just as Leia arrived to sit beside him. He crossed to the little bar on the far side of the room by the windows and pulled the stopper from one of the crystal decanters Leia had taken to keeping filled with his favorite spirits.

"You can't be surprised by this," she contented. Han shook his head as he poured two glasses full of tawny liquid. "We've known this was coming. You were only ever assigned to Coruscant because of the Summit. Now that it's over and the permanent government is settling in, we're not going to need a garrison. The city is safe, General. Mission accomplished."

"Yeah, I know," Han groaned, crossing back to the sofa with the two full glasses in hand. "But I'm not ready to leave yet."

"How long 'til you report?" she asked taking a glass of whisky from his hand as he settled back down onto the sofa beside her.

"Day after tomorrow," he replied, frowning.

"And," she encouraged, "tell me more. Where are you headed? What's the assignment?" Leia wasn't so much ready for Han to leave, either, but she knew she wasn't going to improve his mood by being glum about his departure. She had no power to tell the New Republic military to keep her lover within arm's reach, but there was plenty she could do to help him be at peace with his new duty station.

"Apparently that Warlord guy who was tormenting the Koboks isn't the only one out there," he replied. "There's a whole bunch of these guys doing nasty things in the name of the Empire. They're all over the place. The is one fellow, Zsinj, is a real piece of work, I guess. They're giving me command of the _Mon Remonda_ and a whole fleet to go with her; they want me to track him down and take him out."

Leia clinked her glass against his and smiled up at him broadly.

" _The Mon Remonda_ ," she said, "that's a really big honor, General. I'm proud of you."

"It's a four-to-six month deployment," he said, knocking back a considerable swig of the whisky in his glass.

"We'll get through it," Leia assured him, reaching out to squeeze his knee. "And if it makes you feel any better," she added, "I'll be away for a huge chunk of that time, too. So if missing me is the only problem you have with getting this assignment, you should know that you'd likely be missing me just as much if you were still assigned to Coruscant."

"Yeah?" Han asked, taking another, more manageable sip of whisky. "When did this happen."

"Just today," she replied, "and no, I don't think it was a coincidence that we were both given travel orders the same day." She'd been doing mental gymnastics all day trying to figure out if there might be a way to have Han accompany her on her next trip away. It hadn't occurred to her he might be getting orders elsewhere as well, but once she thought about it, it made perfect sense.

"Probably not," Han agreed. "So where are they sending you? Is it someplace safe, or am I gonna be extra worried while I'm away and out of touch?"

"Probably safer than Coruscant," she replied. "It seems Luke made quite an impression on the Hapans when he was on Terephon. The Queen Mother herself has invited the New Republic to send an envoy to further discuss the possibility of the Hapes Consortium allying itself—or even officially joining—the New Republic. And since Hapes is a matrilineal monarchy, Mon Mothma says I'm by far the most qualified to take on the mission."

"Wow," Han said, sipping at his whisky. He reached out and took Leia's hand in his and squeezed it. After everything they'd just gone through, this impending time apart was killing him, but he couldn't have been prouder of her for being tapped for such a prestigious assignment. "That's huge. If the rumors are true, the Hapan Consortium has wealth beyond anything most of us have ever seen."

"So they say. Having their support could mean a lot in our efforts against the Empire. But they've enjoyed generations of peace, so I fear it may be a hard sell."

"Well," Han said then, taking another sip of whisky as he gave her a playful wink, "if anybody can talk them into it, you can."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, General," she said, raising her glass before taking another sip.

"Generations of peace, huh?" he asked then. Leia nodded. "So you're unlikely to come under attack while you're there. But you're taking a defense force anyway, right?"

"Correct," she replied. "And plus," she added, "I'm sure The Quiet will be watching."

Han chuckled. The Quiet had become something of a running joke between them since their return to Coruscant. Lusiil had been nowhere to be found after the initial meeting with the Kobothi delegation—quite a feat aboard a spacegoing vessel, especially in light of there being no records of any launches from _Rebel Dream_ over the course of their voyage. And when Leia had used her top-level clearance to try and find records back on Coruscant, neither Lusiil Be'Ki or the enigmatic Dr. Sawyer appeared to ever have existed.

Whatever The Quiet was, whoever they were, however they managed to operate, they were as elusive as dust in the wind. They could be anywhere—and probably were. Any time Han and Leia had been alone in public, they'd begun to joke that The Quiet was watching them, so they'd best mind their manners just in case. It felt at the same time creepy and reassuring.

"I'm sure they will be," he allowed. "But even still, I'd feel better if I could go with you."

"I know you would," Leia said, leaning her head against his shoulder, "but since that's not possible, you're just going to have to trust that things will be okay."

"But what if I could?" he asked then, quirking an eyebrow in her direction. "What if there was a way I could be with you… in a way?"

"Han?" she quizzed, "what are you thinking?" He leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

"I want you to take the _Falcon_ with you," he said softly. "She's got a berth on the _Rebel Dream_ and a library of hyperspace routes and safe spots that spans the whole known galaxy. Take my ship with you," he insisted, "and use it if you need to." Leia leaned back and looked him in the eye.

"Really?" she asked, making no effort to hide the clear surprise in her voice. Han had done a million wonderful and generous things for her in the years they'd known each other, but no gesture he'd ever made even began to come close to this. "You'll be in a combat zone. What if you need it?"

"I'll be in command of a well-equipped capital ship loaded for bear with fighter craft," he replied.

"I'll be aboard a refitted Star Destroyer with a full security detail," she countered.

"Yeah, but _Rebel Dream_ has her own captain and crew. And the transitory mists are no joke. Part of the reason the Hapans have had generations of peace is that no one dares to navigate that business in order to mount an attack. That place is a beast to navigate. If you don't believe me, you can ask Luke; he'll tell you what a gnarl of trouble that can be. If something goes sideways and you need to get away, I want you to have your own way out. Nobody's gonna pay too much mind to a freighter on an escape vector when they're tangled in battle with a Star Destroyer and her complement of fighters."

"Han, are you sure?" she asked. "I know how much that ship means to you. I don't want to leave you without it."

Han reached over and took the glass of whisky out of her hand. He set both glasses on the nearby caf table before taking her hands in his.

"That ship means a lot to me, Leia," he said, looking her squarely in the eye, "but you mean so much more. And I'm gonna feel way better about this whole thing if I know the two of you are out there taking care of each other and keeping each other safe. Please. Promise me," he implored. "Promise me you'll take my ship, and at the first sign of trouble you'll bug out."

Leia scooted toward him until she was close enough to come in for a kiss. She kissed him gently, using the moment to compose herself a little; she was on the verge of tears. After a moment she leaned away, but just barely.

"I promise," she whispered before snagging his lips for a second kiss. The second kiss was firmer, deeper, and far more intense than the first. Leia was sure she knew where this was going, and she only hoped they could get through the conversation before it did.

"You promise you'll come home safe?" he asked, moving his hands to her face.

"I do," she said, "I promise. But you have to promise too. No unnecessary risks. You turn tail and get out if things are going south, too. Just pretend I'm standing over your shoulder; If you wouldn't want me in a situation, you get yourself out of it. You're taking a big chunk of my heart with you—and I expect to have it returned in one piece."

"Yeah, princess," he whispered, stroking the sides of her face with his thumbs, "I can do that. You've got yourself a deal."

Leia nodded her head.

"Good," she said. And then she kissed him again.

THE END


End file.
